


okay, that's something

by ren_sauce



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Hanahaki AU, M/M, also pokemon, and he's also best bros with christine i dont make the rules, and melodramatic as fuck, and michael is an... eventually pining boi, and then i made this monster, i love that dog so heckin much, jake is the true mvp, lmao i got one request for expensive headphones, rich is a pining boi, space metaphors because rich is a space nerd FUCK YOU, this is cheesy as fuck, whoopsie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 13:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15535686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ren_sauce/pseuds/ren_sauce
Summary: He doesn't remember what day it was when he first noticed Michael Mell. He doesn't remember the date, or the time, or the class, or what period. He only remembers how Michael looked that day. How he made him feel.





	1. Chapter 1

He doesn’t remember what day it was when he first noticed Michael Mell.

He doesn’t remember the date, or the time, or what class, or what period. He knows it was in school, that much he knows, but he honestly can’t remember anything except how Michael looked that day. How Michael made him feel.

He knows it was around the same time he got his SQUIP. He remembers it’s cold voice directing his every move. _Stand straight, Richard, sit up, Richard, calm down, Richard, Richard, Richard._

And then someone laughed, and that was enough to draw his attention away from the commanding voice in his head. Which sounds odd, but it’s true. Rich doubts it would’ve happened for any other laugh but, well – Michael’s was special. It was like sunshine and honey and all that Shakespeare crap that never made sense to him until then.

His gaze flicked over the class until it finally landed on _him_. Rich knew him, but he didn’t _know_ him. They weren’t friends. They’d shared a few nods and smiles as fellow losers, but Rich doubted he recognised him now. Rich recognised him, though. How could he not, with that bright red hoodie, covered in cheap iron-patches, that he wore every single day? He always had headphones on, either slung around his neck or secured on his head, constantly blasting a heavy stream of music – reggae, maybe? It sounded like reggae. He seemed like a reggae person.

And that other boy – he was _always_ with that other boy – Jared? – like they were joined at the hip or something. He was with him then, talking animatedly about something, Rich can’t remember what – he only remembers what Michael looked like. An easy smile on his face, eyes shining, hands waving and gesturing like a cartoon, dimples – jesus _christ,_ those fucking dimples, what the hell? – and although Rich couldn’t remember what he was saying, he knows he would sometimes stumble over his words, having to backtrack and repeat himself sometimes because of how excited he was.

And then he remembers the burn like lightning up his spine, his brain freezing and prickling as the SQUIP growls _‘absolutely not’_ in his ear, and Rich quickly looks away because no, that’s not allowed, sure, Michael’s objectively pretty but he’s not pretty like _pretty_ pretty, because Rich doesn’t find guys pretty, that’s not allowed.

But maybe he could talk to him-

_No._

Just once, maybe he could get a SQUIP too-

_Not at all._

Maybe they could be friends, they could talk, he could see that smile again-

_Do you really think he’d choose you?_

And then Rich looks again, sees how Michael stares at that other boy – Jason? – like he hung the goddamn stars, like he’s the sun and Michael’s a planet orbiting him, and Rich is barely even in their solar system, just a lonely meteorite floating around on the outside.

Well, he doesn’t care. They’re nerds, losers. He’s not like that anymore, he’s bigger, better. That other guy – Jeremy! - could be Michael’s sun if that’s what they wanted – they could have their own system, their own universe, and Rich would have his own and they’d just stay like that, a million lightyears away from each other.

He definitely doesn’t wish someone would look at him like that.

He definitely doesn’t wonder what it would be like if that person was Michael.

oOo

He doesn’t stay away.

He can’t be with them. The SQUIP would never let him go back to the way he was. So he settles for yelling taunts in the corridors, making snide comments in the classrooms, shoving, snarling, intimidating. It’s a sort of compromise, between him and the SQUIP – this way he increases his status, but… He can also be near Michael. Not that he _wants_ to be around Michael, not like _that_ , Michael was just… Interesting. And although he keeps feeling pangs of guilt in his stomach, stings of regret in the back of his head, it’s worth it to catch a glimpse of that sunshine smile as Michael pulls Jeremy to his feet and tells him to brush it off, who cares what popular people think? They’re all dumb and elitist and probably won’t amount to anything after high school anyways.

Sometimes, Rich will find himself agreeing. Then the SQUIP shocks him, reminds him of what’s important, and he’ll float away from their system and back to his.

He’ll always look back, though – just in time to see Michael look at Jeremy in that special way, the way that shines so much that it lights up everything around him, even Rich’s dark little corner of the universe.

He tries to ignore the tightening in his chest, like vines wrapping around his lungs. It’s not important. The only thing that’s important is getting to the top, and leaving losers like Michael at the bottom.

oOo

The flowers come at around the end of junior year.

He’s walking with Jake – his parents are out of town (he won’t say why), and Rich would rather lick the floors of the school bathrooms than go back to his own home, so they’re going to Jake’s to get drunk and watch movies. Well – Jake will get drunk. Rich will pretend to sip his beer and then dump it into a plant pot when Jake isn’t looking. The SQUIP doesn’t like him getting drunk. They round a corner and then Jeremy and Michael are there, Jeremy talking about… _something_ , Rich didn’t really care, and Michael hanging on his every word.

He looks so happy like that. In his own universe, quietly orbiting his sun, not a care in the world. Rich doesn’t want to ruin that for him. Not today. So he tenses his muscles and keeps his arms close to his sides, ignoring the SQUIP urging him to push him, punch him, put him in his place, and keeps on walking.

The corridor isn’t wide enough for four. As they walk past each other, Rich and Michael’s hands inevitably brush.

The touch spreads like fire, coursing up his veins, scratching at his skin, and then it settles in his lungs and it _burns_.

“Rich?”

He can’t breathe.

“Dude, are you okay?”

He can’t breathe and it _burns_.

“Rich, what’s wrong?! You’re freaking me out, man!”

Oh, he stopped walking. That happened. Oh, and now the SQUIP’s yelling at him to get a grip. That’s nice.

He’s going to be sick.

He looks back, again, despite the SQUIP screaming at him not to. He catches Michael’s eye – he’s looking at Rich with concern, like he actually cares, _ha –_ and then he’s running to the bathrooms, lungs tight and painful and burning.

He flings open a stall, collapses over the toilet seat and heaves. His throat scratches and burns as he coughs up globs of spit and phlegm (ugh) but then something soft and wet catches in his throat. He gags, coughing it up into his palm. It’s a flower petal. It’s small and red and Rich doesn’t know enough about flowers to actually identify it, but he knows it’s supposed to be pretty.

Supposed to be.

“Rich? Dude, you just straight up bolted out there, you okay? Not sick, are ya, or-“

Jake suddenly stops talking and it’s about then that Rich realises he forgot to lock the stall door.

He whirls around, eyes wide and muscles tense like a caged animal. Jake gapes at him with concern, eyes zeroing in on the petal in his hand.

Finally, he whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

oOo

_Hanaki Disease: A disease where a persons feelings of unrequited love causes them to sprout flowers in their lungs. These flowers will spread throughout the lungs and ribcage until the person suffocates and dies, unless their feelings are requited or they stop feeling love for the object of their affections. A Hanaki could also choose to have surgery to remove these flowers, but doing so would also remove the feeling of love as well._

That’s what the SQUIP tells him, anyways. It must’ve pulled it up from some half-assed Wikipedia page or something.

“Is that it?” Rich asks. The SQUIP shrugs.

_It’s all I could find. There’s not much information on the disease itself._

“You’re a super computer, is that really all you can find?” Rich huffs. The SQUIPs eyes narrow.

_Watch your tone, Richard._

Rich growls and bites his lip. So what if he’s a bit testy today, he’s literally dying because of his own stupid feelings, surely that gave him some kind of free pass to be a massive bitch!

The door opens and Rich quickly rearranges himself to look somewhat normal.

“Hey, man.” Jake smiles gently. “I got Sbarros! That always cheers me up!”

He makes it sound like Rich had just lost a sports game rather than found out he was being slowly suffocated by his unrequited whining.

“Not really in the mood for pizza, Jake.” Rich says shortly. He notices Jake flinch at the edge in his voice and that makes him feel like a huge fucking douche, because yeah, Jake can be a little oblivious sometimes, but he was literally a human puppy dog, and what kind of heartless monster would hurt a human puppy dog?

“Is, um…” Jake shuffles awkwardly. Jake’s never awkward. Jake is high school awesomeness personified, why would he be awkward? “Is there anything I can do?”

Rich shrugs.

“C’mon, man.” Jake sighs, taking a seat next to him. “You’re my best bro, I wanna help you!”

Rich shrugs again.

“Rich, come on.” Jake says firmly, grabbing his shoulder and forcing Rich to look at him. “You’re my best friend. Talk to me.”

Rich kind of wants to scream at him, because they’re not best friends, are they? Jake only knows the SQUIPed Rich Goranski, with the tousled hair and the creepy tank tops who seems to take joy in ruining peoples lives. He doesn’t know the real him, the gross, lispy Rich Goranski with the ugly snort laugh who had completed Pokemon Red, like, seven times on his crappy Nintendo DS Lite with the scratched up screen and the top half coming loose.

(the SQUIP had made him burn it with his Pokemon Red game cartridge inside. Rich’d cried a lot more than he was proud to admit over that)

“I’m dying, Jake.” He says after another few moments of silence. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Jake winces, staring at the floor helplessly. Rich knows that Jake hates being helpless.

“Can I, uh… Can I ask who it is? If you’re, uh – comfortable with that?”

He wants to. He wants to so fucking badly.

The SQUIP glares at him from beside the TV.

“… No.” Rich sighs. “Sorry, I just – I can’t-“

“It’s okay.” Jake smiles gently. “Just – if you ever _are_ comfortable to tell me, then you can, okay?”

 _No, you can’t_. The SQUIP snarls. _You never can. He’ll hate you. He’ll leave you. You’ll be back at square one. He’ll_ hate _you._

“I know.” Rich mumbles, staring the SQUIP dead in the eye. Or – the simulation of its eye? He didn’t fucking know.

“I’m here for you, buddy.”

_No, you’re not._

He’s not sure if the SQUIP is the one telling him that, or if he’s actually thinking it himself.

oOo

It’s sophomore year, the vines in his chest are spreading, and he honestly kind of hates Jeremy Heere.

He knows it’s petty, to hate him just because he’s one of the reasons he can’t have Michael, will never have Michael, but he just does.

Because it’s not fair. It’s not fair that he doesn’t notice how Michael’s there for him, how he cares so much more about the opinions of others than the opinion of his best friend, how whenever Michael looks at him like he’s the sun, he’s giving that same look to that drama girl Jake’s set his sights on.

And it’s not fair how Michael’s light dies a little every time Jeremy looks at her instead of him.

Rich goes for him more than Michael. He knows it’s wrong, and every time he sees that look of fear on Jeremy’s face he kind of wants to punch himself because it’s not fair, this shouldn’t be happening, Rich is the one who made his choice, why are they the ones who have to pay for it? But the SQUIP doesn’t give him a choice, and he feels like Michael was one punch away from losing his light completely.

Michael burns a little brighter whenever Jeremy gets knocked down, though. His light shines fiercely with his desire to protect his friend. It hurts that the burning is directed at Rich, but at least it keeps him shining.

oOo

When he walks into the bathroom, Jeremy’s there, and the SQUIP perks up like a hound that’s picked up a preys scent.

_Make him pay, make him pay, make him pay._

Does he really have to?

_Do it now, do it now, do it now._

He’s so tired…

_NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!_

Ugh.

“I told you not to wash that off.” He growls, ripping Jeremy’s ruined backpack from his hands.

“Uh – I-I was just looking for my homework-!”

(Maybe they could’ve been friends)

“Shut up, tallass!” He roars, tossing the bag aside and slamming his fist against the wall beside Jeremy’s head. Jeremy squeaks pitifully. Rich just wants to go home.

(Maybe if he’d waited before getting the SQUIP)

“W-Why do you even call me that?” Jeremy mumbles. “I’m not even that tall…”

(Maybe they could’ve been more than just losers, maybe he could’ve joined him and Michael, talked to them, been their friend, maybe he wouldn’t be cool but being cool was so tiring he just wanted to rest-)

_SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!_

His head’s pounding. Make it stop, please just stop…

_Finish with him. Then it’ll stop._

Jeremy honestly looks like he’s about to cry.

Rich just wants it to stop.

He plays along.

It’s not as bad as his usual stuff. He pounds on the door when Jeremy scurries into a stall, mocks his posture, calls him a girl (honestly a pretty weak insult, but hey, the SQUIP says emasculating’s cool, who’s he do disagree?). He’s pretty sure he rolls his hips at some point, which earns him a small sting from the SQUIP, and then he says something about confidence ( _ha fucking ha)_ and then-

_Stop!_

Rich gasps, his brain bursting with new information.

_Make him an offer. He won’t refuse it._

Rich really wants to punch something.

How can Jeremy Heere want a SQUIP? What more can he want? He has a friend, a _real_ friend, who likes him, _loves_ him for who he really is, he isn’t terrible to look at, he gets okay grades, he’s surviving just fucking fine!

But, a small voice in the back of his head whispers, so was he. Before he got the SQUIP, he was doing alright. Not great, but manageable. Sure, he hadn’t had any real friends, the loneliness killed him every day and his father – Christ, his father.

Still, he probably could’ve scraped his way out of highschool, if he’d really tried.

But he’d wanted to do more than just survive.

He makes the offer. And he knows there’s no way Jeremy can refuse it.

oOo

He coughs up another flower. It’s so red he almost doesn’t notice the blood.

_Stage two Hanahaki. Coughing up blood along with flowers is a clear sign of the second stage of Hanahaki disease. The flowers are now digging into your organs, rupturing your blood vessels and causing you to cough up blood._

“So you could find more.”

_Watch your tone, Richard._

“Fuck you.”

Lightning runs up his spine and he stops talking.

_This will all be so much easier if you just get the surgery._

“That is so not happening.”

_I can transfer money to your bank account, you won’t even have to tell your father._

“I’m not doing it.”

_The feelings will go, you can finally put this Michael business to rest and we can start making progress again! Get the surgery, Richard._

“I won’t. And you can’t make me.”

The SQUIP flickered with anger.

_We’ll see about that._

oOo

It’s about three days after Jeremy gets his SQUIP and, honestly, Rich is kind of impressed.

The change is clearly noticeable – Rich almost didn’t recognise him when he walked in, clad in an Eminem shirt and a grey hoodie that was just a little too big, slipping over his shoulders effortlessly. His hair’s glistening with a small amount of product, and his eyes glint with power.

It makes Rich shudder.

They’re not exactly friends. More like partners. And their job was… Being cool, Rich supposed. Their SQUIPs were synched now, which makes Rich a little uncomfortable, especially when he feels Jeremy’s own SQUIP digging around his mind. It lands on memories of his father, and his SQUIP must be in a good mood today, because it immediately pushes Jeremy’s SQUIP out of his mind and away from the big black box he keeps hidden in the back of his brain.

The bell rings and they go their separate ways – or, they’re supposed to. But then the back of Rich’s neck prickles and he can’t help himself, he looks back again.

Michael’s bounding up the corridor, clearly thrown off by Jeremy’s new look, but it doesn’t look like it’s put a dent in his never ending optimism (Rich doubts anything could). He raises his hand for their stupid(ly cute) handshake, that sunshine smile lighting up his features.

“Jeremy, my buddy, how’s it-?”

Jeremy walks right past him, as if he never even saw him.

Michael stands there for a moment, paused in time, like a buffering computer program. Rich can hear the warning systems in his brain go off, _does not compute, does not compute_. His hand falls, and he stares at the space where Jeremy was moments ago. His smile drops, and the world is all darkness and shadows again.

For the rest of the day, Michael is staring longingly at Jeremy, who doesn’t even acknowledge his presence, and Rich feels a familiar burning in his chest. It’s not fair, not fair, _not fair_.

He coughs up more flowers at lunch, hunched over the toilet seat, tears streaking down his face because of how much it hurts.

He wipes his mouth, cleans his face and walks out the door as if nothing had happened.

Jake is waiting for him on the other side, and suddenly he’s crying again.

He goes back to Jake’s house, and drinks properly, despite the SQUIP telling him not to. He hasn’t actually drank before, unless you count the time he snuck a beer can from his dad’s stash to see how it tasted, had one sip, threw up and then had to deal with his dad in rage mode for two days. It doesn’t matter, though. One gulp and the SQUIP is nothing but glitchy gibberish with some random Japanese thrown in. Once he reaches the bottom of the bottle, he can barely even hear it.

They watch Sharknado and Jake lets Rich cry and cuddle into his side, and Rich wishes Jake was the one he fell for instead.

oOo

“It goes away if you fall in love with someone else, right?”

Rich frowns over his maths textbook.

“Uh. Not really? Like, only if that person loves you back, I think.”

_Question 3 is 8.5._

He copies what the SQUIP tells him, first the working out and then the final answer. Jake gapes at him in awe.

“I will never understand how you get this shit.” He whispers in mock-admiration. Rich rolls his eyes and lets him copy his answers.

“Why’d you ask?” Rich asks, not really paying attention.

_4 is 12 over 16. Simplify it to 3 over 8._

“Well…” Jake mumbles uncharacteristically. “What if, uh… What if we dated?”

Rich’s pen tears into his paper.

“Sorry.” Jake says quickly, avoiding his gaze. “That was-“

“Yeah.” Rich growls. Wait, no, not him – the SQUIP. He’s having trouble telling them both apart these days. “Why did – why - what?”

“I just thought…” Jake says quietly. “Like, I-I don’t like you. No offense, you are awesome, I just… Don’t. But - I dunno. Maybe I could. And maybe if we dated, I’d like you and you’d like me and this would all go away.”

_No no no that’s wrong, that’s WRONG!_

“We’re not doing that.” Rich snaps. Jake visibly flinches.

“Sorry.” He whispers. Rich feels his anger – or was it the SQUIPs? He can’t tell – flood away.

“No, Jake, I didn’t – I…” He sighs, flopping down on Jake’s desk. “I can’t – I can’t do that to you, man, like… That’s not fair to you.”

“I _could_ like you.” Jake repeats. “I could – I could _try_.”

Rich groans in frustration.

“It’s not something you _try_ to do, Jake, it’s just something you just _do_!” He tries to explain. “And – and even if you did, it’s not like it would work. I’m not gay.”

He’s not. He knows he’s not. He’s been attracted to girls before, definitely. He’s _not_ gay.

(But choking up flowers because of some boy isn’t entirely straight, either)

“I think I’m bi.”

Rich’s pen stabs into Jake’s desk. How many more bombshells is this guy going to drop on him tonight?

“Or – I dunno, something like that. Pan?” Jake frowns. “That’s a thing, right? I think I heard Christine talk about it.”

_That’s wrong, that’s wrong, that’s wrong!_

That’s the guy who let Rich into his home just so he could get away from his own. That’s the guy who comforted him when he coughed up flowers in a bathroom stall at the end of junior year. That’s the guy who just offered to try and fall in love with him, just to help Rich out. That’s his best friend, so shut the fuck up.

“That’s okay, Jake.” Rich says quietly. “But – But I’m not. Not anything like that, so. It wouldn’t work. And even if I did, it still wouldn’t work, it just... It wouldn’t work, Jake.”

They slip into silence. Jake’s staring hard at the surface of his desk, his brow furrowed and jaw set, like when people ask him about his parents. The SQUIP seethes quietly in the back of Rich’s mind.

“I don’t want you to die, Rich.”

That makes one of them.

oOo

It’s five days after Jeremy first got his SQUIP and, wait. Did Rich miss something? Wasn’t Jeremy staring at Christine like she was a goddess just a few days ago? Why was he suddenly holding hands with Brooke Lohst? Rich doesn’t have anything against the girl, she was sweet, kind, a bit of a pushover, but altogether a pretty decent person. Probably the most decent of the populars. It just… Didn’t make sense.

 _He’s making progress._ The SQUIP shrugs. _Why do you care? It’s not affecting us._

No, but it’s affecting _him_.

Again and again Jeremy walks past Michael like he doesn’t even notice him. Like they’ve never even met. It’s honest to god spooky. And it hurts watching Michaels light die a little every time Jeremy looks right through him.

“Why can’t he see him?” He asks. The SQUIP rolls its eyes.

 _It’s called optic nerve blocking. His SQUIP must be blocking Michael from his field of vision_.

“But why?” Rich frowns. Why would anyone want to block out Michael? The SQUIP glitches with frustration.

_Obviously, Jeremy’s life is better without Michael there to drag him down. Just look at him._

It’s true, Jeremy does have a better look now. The populars are hanging off of him. He walks with an easy swagger. He seems more confident. But still, Rich can’t see how anyone would benefit from not having Michael in their life.

_Maybe you should try it._

Rich scoffs and rolls his eyes, but then his eyeballs itch and he knows something’s wrong. He turns around to Michael’s desk.

Michael’s gone.

“Off.” He orders. “Cancel. Undo. Optic nerve blocking: off.”

Michael flickers back into his view. He narrows his eyes, frowning at Rich questioningly and mouthing, _what?_

Rich shakes his head quickly, as if to shake away his panic, and turns back around, sighing in relief.

“Don’t mess with my head again.” He growls. The SQUIP raises an eyebrow. It doesn’t say anything, but Rich understands.

That damn hivemind’s been messing with his head since the start.

oOo

He tries to get through the rest of the day normally.

Sure, it hurts watching Michael gaze at Jeremy with want and confusion. It hurts watching Jeremy glance around the room, as searching for Michael, even though he’s right there.

It hurts knowing what exactly what was going on yet not being able to say anything.

He keeps looking back at Michael. The SQUIP tries that optic nerve blocking trick a few more times, but Rich always notices. He can’t _not_ notice Michael. Eventually, it gives up trying.

He just wants to make it to the end of the day. He just wants to go home and rest. Maybe his dad’s already knocked out by now. Maybe he can just sneak past him and sleep, grab whatever few hours of rest he can before his dad wakes up and it starts all over again.

And then Brooke kisses Jeremy.

It’s right in the middle of the corridor, square on the mouth, too. Jeremy clearly wasn’t expecting it. But he smiles politely – not his regular smile, Rich notes – and pulls her back in for another kiss.

Somehow, Rich’s gaze lands on Michael (because it _always_ does, come on, it’s hardly a surprise at this point) and his chest doesn’t burn, but it aches.

The other boy gapes at his friend and his girlfriend. Rich can see where his heart shatters.

But then Michael jolts, doubling over, one hand over his mouth, the other clutching his chest, and Rich _knows_.

Christine – had she been there the whole time? – touches his arm gently and murmurs something to him, probably asking what’s wrong. Before she can finish, Michael’s already sprinting to the bathroom.

Rich is following him before his brain can even process everything that just happened.

He bursts into the bathroom, and for a moment, there’s nothing. He wonders if he was wrong. After all, what where the chances?

But then he hears choking and gagging from the furthest stall, and a small hiccupping sob after each coughing fit.

He ignores the SQUIP screaming in his head, strides to the door and pulls it open. Michael whirls around, a small drop of blood smearing the corner of his mouth. Dark blue petals spill over the toilet seat.

He looks so scared.

_Get away get away do not go near him this is wrong he’s wrong stay away from him get away NOW!_

He will. Just let him help him, just this once.

_WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG!!_

He knows. He knows it’s wrong. But just let him help, just this once, and he’ll never go near Michael again.

The SQUIP goes quiet, and Rich thinks he’s won. Sort of. Maybe.

“Uh…” Michael says quietly, voice cracking painfully and making him wince. “Wh-What are you, um…”

Rich steps into the stall and quietly shuts the door behind him.

“Is this – are you seriously going to give me a swirly?” Michael gapes, strained humour trying to mask his fear. “I mean, that just seems a little cliché, don’t you think? C’mon, man, originality, it’s-“

He cuts himself off with a coughing fit. He hacks and gags, and spits a cluster of blue petals into the toilet, all clumped together with blood. It’s gross, yeah, but Michael’s more important. Rich sits down beside him and carefully, cautiously, places his hand on Michaels back. Michael flinches, and Rich almost moves away, but he seems to move into the touch, just slightly. He must be touch starved, what with Jeremy not being around anymore. Rich knows the feeling.

He keeps rubbing Michaels back until he’s stopped coughing, and then digs around in his backpack, Michael peering at him with confusion.

”Here.” Rich mutters, handing him a bottle full of cloudy, questionable water. Michael raises an eyebrow. “It’s not as bad as it looks. It’s like – honey and lemon and shit. Jake made it ‘cause Christine told him it was good for sore throats, and now he makes me drink it whenever I have a bad fit.”

Michael gapes at him, eyes wide in shock.

“You…” He murmurs. “You have-?”

“You can’t tell anyone.” Rich says quickly. “And if you do, I’ll-“

He doesn’t finish. There’s nothing he can do to Michael.

Michael narrows his eyes, examining him carefully, and slowly takes the bottle, like it might bite him if he moves too fast. He takes a cautious sip.

“It’s…” He frowns, looking at the bottle carefully. “Good?”

“Don’t need to sound so surprised. Jake’s actually pretty good at making drinks.” Rich says offhandedly. Is this what conversing is? He’s had the SQUIP taking the reigns for so long he kind of forgot what it was like to talk by himself.

Michael scoffs. “Yeah, like that’s a surprise.”

“Hey.” Rich says sharply. “Look, Jake may act like an ass sometimes but it’s ‘cause he’s oblivious, not ‘cause he’s a bad guy. Give him a little credit.”

“Sure I will, when he deserves it.”

Rich bites the inside of his cheek, but he doesn’t say anything. A dumb argument won’t help them here.

“It’s tallass, isn’t it?”

“He really isn’t that tall, y’know.” Michael rolls his eyes. “I mean, _I’m_ taller than him.”

“Not hearing a no, headphones.”

Michael goes silent. Rich takes that as a yes.

“It’s your fault, y’know.”

Rich frowns. “What’sat supposed to mean?”

Michael glares at the red and blue mess in front of him. “It means it’s _your fault_. You’re the one who told him about that fucking – super powered tic-tac or whatever! And now he won’t even talk to me, not since…”

Rich bites his lip and draws blood. He took Jeremy from Michael and messed him up, made him like Rich. He took Michael’s sun and turned him into a red giant about to explode. He ruined everything for Michael.

He ruins everything, period.

“Mountain Dew Red.”

Michael frowns. “What?”

“Mountain Dew Red.” Rich repeats. He can feel the SQUIP pulling on his muscles and nerves, tugging him like a puppet. “You – you like that retro shit, right? Look it up, it was – was cancelled in the nineties or whatever but-“

The SQUIP tugs hard, and Rich feels his jaw clamp shut against his will. He stands up suddenly, his movements robotic, and shoves his way out of the stall, marching to the door.

“Hey, wait!” Michael cries, grabbing him by the wrist. The touch is enough to ignite the fire in his chest again, and it burns so painfully that it draws his attention away from the SQUIPs control.

He gasps, practically collapsing into Michael’s chest.

“What – What are you-?!”

“Please!” He says suddenly, except he doesn’t, he says _‘pleathe’,_ with a lisp, like how he did before the SQUIP became his puppet master. He has no strings now. He’s gone rogue. “Just – just look it up. I-I promise. It’ll help.” He holds Michael’s gaze. _“Trust me.”_

Michael’s eyes widen, confusion evident in those galaxies of brown, but before either of them can say anything, the SQUIP lets out an ear-piercing shriek that makes Rich scream and clutch Michael’s arms before he’s suddenly pushing him away.

 _“Stay the fuck away from me, freak.”_ The SQUIP snarls, storming Rich’s body out of the bathroom, into the hall, down the stairs, to the janitors closet. Classes have already started. He didn’t see any teachers. No one’ll know he’s there.

No one’ll come to get him.

 _We talked about this, Richard._ The SQUIP chastises, its voice warped and distorted. _For this to work, you must obey._

“I did.” Rich whispers, fear crawling up from his chest to his throat. “I – I said I’d help him, just that once, and then I’d leave him alone, you _let_ me-“

He’s lisping again. Why is he lisping? Why isn’t the SQUIP helping him?

_You told him. He knows now. You deliberately tried to undo everything I’ve done for you._

“I just wanted to see him smile again... I thought-”

 _Thought what?_ The SQUIP growls. _That if you tried hard enough, he’d choose you over Jeremy? He loves him. He only ever talked to you_ because of him.

“But…” Rich croaks. “M-Maybe if I could just talk to him, maybe he could come with us-“

_He’s distracting you, Rich. The more attention you give him, the more you suffer for it. Why do you insist on undoing everything I worked so hard for you to get?_

“I-I didn’t-“

_This is what you wanted, Richard._

The SQUIP’s voice floods his brain. It’s everywhere, he can’t get away from it, he just wants it to stop, please-!

_Why are you being so ungrateful?_

“I’m _not_ , I just-!”

It’s so loud, so loud, please just go away-!

_Do you really think he would’ve chosen you?_

His chest burns.

 _Who’d love someone like you? You are_ nothing _without me, Richard. Do you really think anyone would’ve given you a second look when you were just another loser? Do you think Michael would’ve?_

He feels flowers crawl up his throat.

“No.” He whispers, after a moment of silence, the tears finally spilling. The SQUIP smiles. It looks wrong.

_Very good, Richard._

He doesn’t feel good.

_Let’s go home. Jake’s Halloween party is coming up. It’s crucial you attend. Maybe we can undo all the damage you did to our objective._

Rich nods. The movements feel slow, and heavy, like he’s underwater.

_Good. And stop crying – anyone could see you like this, and your reputation is already suffering._

He can’t stop. It’s a mess. It gets so bad the SQUIP gets tired and just blocks his tear ducts instead. He can’t let it out now, so his emotions sit like a ball of lead in his stomach.

In the back of his mind, he remembers something about lead being poisonous. Too much of it can kill you.

He’s far too tired to make some dry, pessimistic joke about that. He just goes home instead.

oOo

It’s too loud.

 _Of course it’s loud, it’s a party._ The SQUIP snaps. It’s extra snappy today.

Rich knows it’s supposed to be loud. Parties were loud. Music, dancing, drunk teenagers – it was kind of obvious. That doesn’t mean he has to like it.

 _Yes, it does._ The SQUIP snarls. _Parties are cool. You are cool. Therefore, you like parties._

Rich doesn’t really think it works like that.

_It does, you’re just being difficult, why do you have to be such a brat?!_

And now he has a headache. Brilliant.

He tries his best to ignore the SQUIP and scans Jakes party instead. He can make out Jeremy, in his dumb cyborg costume (did his SQUIP really think that was a good idea?), dancing with Brooke, dressed as a sexy dog (oh boy) and Chloe, dressed as a sexy baby ( _oh boy_ ). He can’t find Jenna anywhere (she’s probably off live tweeting all the drama going down), but he spots Christine in a full princess gown, which she’s actually kind of pulling off. She had definitely put in more effort than the rest of them. Jake is Prince, which is pretty cool, Rich supposes. Jake is cool. He doesn’t even need a SQUIP. It’s effortless. Why couldn’t he be like Jake?

Then he remembers how Jake’s parents abandoned him, how much Jake struggled to keep up with all his extracurriculars, how he was certain something was wrong with him because there were so many great people at their school and he couldn’t even try to date any of them without getting bored and moving on to something new the very next day.

God, Rich is a dick.

He shakes his head. Just focus on the dancing.

Jake’s in the middle, engaging in some kind of dance off with Jeremy. Then there’s Chloe, then Brooke, close but trying to get closer. Christine, sitting on a couch smiling and chatting with the other party goers. And then Jenna, on the sidelines, glued to her phone and snapping photos of the action.

Jake’s the sun of this system. He’s the biggest, the brightest of the group – they all orbit him. Jeremy’s Mercury; he’s small, doesn’t really look like much, but he’s still closer to the sun than anyone else in the system. Hell, Rich wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up taking Jake’s place as the centre of the system. It would be easy, with his SQUIP and all.

Chloe. Venus. A ball of heat and lava and gas, encased in one solid shape. Beautiful, but she burns those who get too close. Like Brooke; the Earth. She started out lush and green and fresh but now she’s heading downhill. She’s burning up. She’s tense. Maybe it’s from having to keep up with the rest of the planets. Maybe she just wants to rest, too.

And then Jenna. Rich labels her as a moon, because she follows Chloe and Brooke in their orbits around Jake, but she orbits them, too. He wonders if it’s tiring for her, all those orbits, trying so desperately to be a part of the solar system and yet she’s just a big space rock following behind them.

Hm. That’s probably not Rich’s best analogy. He’ll have to try harder next time.

Christine didn’t even need to be part of the system. She just… Didn’t mind. Everything bounced off of her. If anything, it made her shine brighter. Like a star. Yeah. Christine’s a star. That’s a better analogy.

Michael-

Michael wasn’t part of this system. So Rich had no reason to be thinking about him. None whatsoever.

That just leaves Rich. What’s he? Where does he fit on the system? Is he Saturn, surrounded by jagged rings of rock and ice? Is he Pluto, barely even considered a planet? Or is he just a meteorite floating by on the outside, trying to get in close but burning up on impact?

The SQUIP screeches at him to shut up, shut up, shut up, and the music is pounding and the people are screaming and everything’s too loud, stop, stop, stop _sTOP STOP_

Jake has a car.

He keeps emergency jugs of gasoline in his garage. Just in case he runs out.

Rich is pretty sure he saw a lighter left on the kitchen table.

The SQUIP starts to scream again.

_THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED I GAVE YOU WHAT YOU WANTED I DID EVERYTHING WHY ARE THROWING IT ALL AWAY WHY WHY WHY_

 “Shut the fuck up.” He snarls. His movements are slow and his body burns, like he’s walking through lava, but he’s still moving. He grabs someone’s cup at some point and chugs it, and the SQUIP screams and glitches and jabbers in random Japanese but eventually it’s just a dull throb in the back of his mind.

Somehow he finds himself in Jake’s attic. He can’t remember how he got there. He’s holding a can of gasoline he can’t remember getting. In his pocket, a lighter rests against his thigh. He can’t remember how that got there, either.

Alcohol was wild.

He grabs the can and starts dousing every inch of the attic in oil. It reeks. Makes him gag. He gives the lighter a few experimental flicks. On the last flick, he holds it, looking at the flickering flame in front of him. And then he realises.

He’s not a sun, or a planet, or a meteorite. He’s a black hole, and he’s about to destroy everything in his sight.

He tosses the lighter onto the petrol. The flames burst and throw him backwards.

Everything stops.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything starts again.

Everything starts again, and Rich is in too much pain to think anything.

It starts in his brain, like a bolt of lightning, coursing down his spine and spreading to his limbs like wild fire. He thrashes in his bed – since when was he in a bed? – and then he hears someone screaming, high and shrill, like an injured animal, and then he sees something flickering in the corner of his eye.

The SQUIP looks wrong. More wrong than before. It’s hunched over, and its body is glitching in and out of vision, distorting and flashing warningly. It looks up at Rich, and its eyes are like blue fire.

It launches at him, crawls onto his bed, grabs him by his hair and it _burns._

Rich is screaming, too.

Then his head goes empty, and everything stops again.

oOo

When he wakes up, he notices that Jeremy Heere is lying in the bed beside him, and Rich’s head hurts too much for Rich to focus on hating him.

Honestly, Jeremy looks kind of fucked. In the bad way. He’s even paler than usual, there are bags under his eyes, and he’s wearing one of those gross hospital gowns with no sleeves, so Rich can see lightning scars crawling up his wrists, like the ones Rich has, creeping up his spine, reaching up his arms. He can’t see them anymore, though. They’re covered by burns.

There are bandages all over his body, so he can’t see them that well, but from what he sees, they’re big, and from what he feels, they’re even bigger. Red raw, bumpy and messy, unlike the smooth symmetry of the SQUIPs perfect lines. If the SQUIPs shocks were like cracks on a sidewalk, then these burns are like someone got drunk, grabbed a sledgehammer and started smashing.

They itch, too. He feels their sting spread up his arms, wrap around his midsection and scratch at his legs. There’s another scar clawing its way up his face that tingles against the scratchy fabric of his pillow – it’s a hospital pillow, they’re in a hospital, why are they in a hospital? – and that tingle turns into an itch which turns into a full on burning on the side of his face. His right arm is covered in a cast, but his left arm is free, except for a few bandages over his scars. He reaches up and scratches, hard, digs his nails into the marred skin and gives himself a few seconds of relief before the burn returns, even more intense than before. He claws at the skin, his nails digging in to the raised flesh, and his head pounds alongside the burning of his skin, it hurts so much, please just stop-

“You shouldn’t do that, y’know.”

Michael’s presence fills up the cold hospital room like a ray of sunshine, and it’s enough to make Rich stop scratching.

“Sorry.” He says quietly, because he doesn’t really know what else to say, and looks away from Michael to the scratchy hospital bedsheets covering his body. He lisps as he says it, so it comes out as _‘thorry’_ instead, and he scrapes his tongue over his teeth as a punishment.

Michael just raises an eyebrow and moves past him to sit at Jeremy’s side. It makes the vines in Rich’s chest tighten, but he knows he deserves it.

“Is yours gone, too?”

He doesn’t respond at first, because he honestly doesn’t believe it, but no, it’s true, Michael Mell is actually talking to him. Like, willingly.

Huh.

“What, um.” Rich mumbles uncharacteristically. “What d’you mean?”

“Your SQUIP.” Michael huffs, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Is it gone? Everyone else’s is.”

“Everyone?” Rich frowns. “I thought it was just-“

“It was.” Michael cuts him off. “But Jeremy’s – I dunno, guess it had some kind of error or bug or some shit. Decided it’d be a good idea to SQUIP the whole fucking school during the play.”

“Seriously?”

Ugh, no. Too many ‘S’s. He sounds so fucking stupid, Michael must hate him.

He scrapes his tongue over his teeth again, harder.

“Seriously.” Michael confirms. “It was like a fucking video game. Or a horror movie. Like when the main characters are trapped in this one building that’s like, _infested_ with zombies and they have to fight their way out? It was like that.”

“Damn.” That’s all he can really think to say. He has this image of Michael mowing down SQUIP zombies left and right with, like, a baseball bat or something. It’s pretty hot.

He scrapes his tongue again.

“Yeah.” Michael chuckles, like a half-laugh sort of thing, like when you’re going to laugh but you don’t want to so you stuff it down but some of it still ends up coming out. “Yeah, it was – it was fucking terrifying, man. Like – Jake had one, too, and like, he’s already huge and scary, man, and then his SQUIP made him, like, unable to feel pain and shit, so he just fuckin’ drops his crutches and-“

“Crutches?” Rich cuts him off. “Why – why was he on crutches, what – did something happen?”

He’s trying not to, but he’s lisping way too much. He full on bites his tongue this time.

Michael looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Haven’t you checked your phone recently?” He frowns, one eyebrow raised sceptically.

“Uh.” Rich fixes him with a flat stare. “I don’t really have my phone anymore, dude.”

“Oh – shit, yeah. Fuck. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Rich says, voice numb. “It was my dumbass idea.”

Michael looks like he wants to ask something then, but he stops himself.

“… Jake broke his legs getting away from the fire.”

Michael says it so quietly that Rich almost doesn’t hear it, but when he does, he feels his stomach drop.

“He what?” He whispers, voice broken. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Michael almost looked sorry for him.

“He could’ve gotten out just fine, but...” Michael starts picking at a loose thread on his hoodie. “He couldn’t find you. So he ran back inside, and by then, he just…”

Okay.

Okay.

Jake Dillinger, Rich’s best friend – hell, his only friend, had ran back into a burning building, his own _house_ that Rich had set alight because of some dumb plan he’d thought of in the heat of the moment, just to get Rich, who he didn’t even truly know, who was going to die anyways because of these stupid flowers in his chest, and broke his leg – _legs_ , plural – trying to get them both out safe.

Okay.

“Hey.”

Okay. Okay.

“Rich, hey.”

Not okay, not okay, not okay, not at all okay-!

“Rich!”

Michael’s in front of him now. Okay. When did that happen? Wait, he’s saying something. What’s he saying? Dammit, Rich, shut up and _listen_ , shut up, shut up, shut up-!

“Rich, listen to me.” Michael’s voice is so powerful it cuts through the noise in Rich’s head. “You’re having a panic attack. You need to focus on your breathing, okay?”

Not okay. Not okay.

“Rich.” Michael takes Rich’s face in his hands, okay, his hands are really soft, okay. The touch tingles, but not the itchy tingle of his burns against the sheets, a warm tingle, that spreads soothingly up his skin. “Just focus on me, okay? Don’t focus on anything but me.”

Yeah, he’s been doing that for almost a year and a half now, he doesn’t need to be told, thanks.

“When I start counting, up to ten, you breathe in, okay? And then, when I start counting down, you breathe out. Only when I’m counting. Got it?”

He can’t talk, so he just nods shakily.

“Okay. Cool. One, two, three…”

Rich tries to suck in a breath. It’s shaky, and he only gets to around six before choking it back out again.

“Sorry, I’m sorry-“ He whispers, but Michael shushes him gently and pulls his attention back.

“Just focus on me, Rich.” He says softly, counting again. Rich breathes with him, up to ten this time, and Michael asks him to hold it, but he can’t.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m trying, I’m sorry-“

(He’s lisping so much, shut up, _shut up!)_

“It’s okay.” Michael whispers, his breath warming Rich’s skin. “Just keep trying for me, okay?”

Rich would do anything this boy asked of him.

Michael keeps counting, and Rich keeps breathing, and eventually he’s able to breathe in without it shaking, and hold it in without feeling like he’s going to suffocate. He exhales one last time, his breath whooshing out of his lips softly.

“Okay?” Michael asks quietly.

Rich looks into his honey brown eyes, and lets their warmth wash over him, wiping all his shadows away, if only for a moment.

“Okay.” He breathes.

He means it.

oOo

“You said it was your idea.”

Michael’s been visiting a lot lately.

Every day, even if it’s a weekday, he’ll come to the hospital after school to visit. His mom’s a nurse, meaning he gets some special treatment, so he can stay a little bit longer than most visitors, and nobody says anything if he brings in food or magazines. It’s how he was able to see Jeremy so soon after the incident at the play, he tells Rich one afternoon.

Jeremy. That’s the only reason he’s here. Not for Rich.

He really needs to stop kidding himself.

“Huh?” He hums, not looking up from the copy of National Geographic Michael’d brought in for him (he likes polar bears, sue him).

“The fire.” Michael says, glancing at him from over his phone. “When you first woke up. You said it was your idea.”

Shit. He almost drops his National Geographic. And he’d _just_ gotten to the part about the penguins.

“I, uh.” He mumbles. “I didn’t – I wasn’t –“ Michael’s looking at him, his expression unreadable. Rich closes his magazine and sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, it was my idea.”

“Not your SQUIP?”

“Why do you care so much?” Rich snaps, immediately defensive. Michael’s face hardens. Fuck. That’s not what he wanted.

“I _care_ because it makes no goddamn sense.” Michael says sharply. “Like – like, what? You had fucking everything, you had the popularity, the friends, the grades, you were top of the food chain, and then you just – I don’t get it! Like – it’s not like your SQUIP would tell you to do that, that wouldn’t benefit it, but it’s not like you had any reason to!”

“Yes, I did.” Rich growls through gritted teeth.

“Oh yeah? What?! ‘Cause I’ve been racking my fucking brain, Rich, and I can’t think of anything! Like – was it the disease or something?! What, just ‘cause you were gonna die, you wanted everyone else to go with you-?!”

“Shut the _fuck_ up, headphones!” Rich roars. It’s less intimidating with the lisp, but Michael goes quiet. “You think I don’t know it was stupid? You think – you think I _wanted_ this to happen?!” He snaps, gesturing to his bandaged body. “Look, you’re right, alright? It was dumb, and it was selfish, I _know_ that. You wanna hate me? Join the fucking club! But don’t you _fucking_ dare talk about that shit to me, when you know exactly how it feels!”

Michael’s defences are ripped away by that. His face falls, his eyes soften. He sighs, and looks away.

“Sorry.” He whispers. “That wasn’t cool.”

Rich doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really have anything _to_ say.

“I just don’t get it.” Michael says again. “You had _everything_. Everyone knew who you were, you were, like, y’know, _that guy_!”

He does a little jazz-hands motion at that. If Rich wasn’t too busy wallowing in pity and self loathing, he’d probably find it cute.

“And…” Michael says softly. “And you had Jeremy.”

Jeremy. Rich doesn’t hate him anymore. He hated that Jeremy took the SQUIP, he hated Jeremy _with_ the SQUIP, but… Rich made the same mistakes he did. Hell, Rich made worse mistakes.

Jeremy made a dumb decision. So did Rich. And a whole bunch of innocent people suffered for it.

“I just wanted it to stop.” He whispers. Michael frowns at him, silently asking him to continue.

“It was just-“ His voice cracks slightly. He keeps going. “It was just so _loud_ in there. And the SQUIP, and those – those fuckin’ _flowers_ , and just – all of it, it was too much.” He feels his eyes begin to sting. “I just wanted it to stop.”

Michael looks at him, and it’s not pity in his eyes, but something more like… Understanding.

“I know the feeling.” He smiles sadly. “Like – obviously not the SQUIP stuff, but… Things get too much for me, too, sometimes.”

Rich smiles back. It looks just as broken as Michael’s, if not more, but that’s okay. For now, at least.

“My mom died when I was seven.”

Whoa, okay, that happened. Michael looks up at him so quickly Rich wonders if he got whiplash or something. Clearly, he’s just as confused as Rich is.

“It was some form of cancer, I was – I was too young to really get it. All I knew was that she was good, then she got bad, and then she was gone.”

Wow, he’s really going with this, isn’t he?

“My dad didn’t take it too well. He’s not the best guy when he drinks, and after my mom, he drank a lot. It got too much for him, too, but. He didn’t know how to make it stop, I guess. So then – everything, all the stuff he was feeling, it started to… Dammit, I know the word…” He snaps his fingers a few times. “Fester! Yeah, it started to fester. Spread, y’know? And he didn’t really know how to let it out in a healthy way, so… he took it out on me and my brother instead.”

Michael stares at him. He keeps going.

“Stephen – my brother – he got out, like, the moment he turned eighteen. I think I was eleven at the time? Yeah, he packed a bag and ran. He told me to go with him, I - I _wanted_ to go with him, but. I guess I was too scared. Partly because I didn’t know would happen while we were out there, but… Partly because I didn’t know what would happen to my _dad_ while we were out there.”

Michael hasn’t left yet. That’s something.

“Rich…”

“I know, right?” Rich laughs bitterly, before Michael can finish. “Like, how fucking pathetic is that? This fucking guy – first it’s the drinking, and then the yelling, and then we have to fucking tiptoe around him just so we don’t make him mad, and then he actually starts taking swings at us-“

Michael gasps softly. Rich keeps going. He has to get it out, and now that he’s started, he can’t stop.

“And then I _finally_ get a chance to get away from him and I don’t take it. ‘Cause – ‘Cause I hate the bastard, y’know? This shit-“ His voice cracks painfully. “It was hard for me, too. It was hard for Stephen. But he just – just didn’t even care about us, he made it all about him, and – Christ, I don’t even think the fucker’s noticed I’m gone yet, and… And I still fucking care about him. How fucked up is that?”

He risks another glance at Michael. He still hasn’t left. He doesn’t look disgusted.

“So yeah.” Rich sighs. “I don’t have everything. If that’s what you were thinking.”

His eyes flick to the clock on the wall. Visiting hours end in about five minutes. He doubts Michael will want to stay later this time.

“Sorry.” He murmurs, just to break the silence. “That’s probably – I shouldn’t’ve just unloaded all that fucking… Personal baggage on you or whatever, I mean-“

He’s cut off by a choked, strangled noise, and suddenly Michael’s right beside him, pulling him into his arms and burying his face in Rich’s hair.

“I’m sorry.” Michael whispers. “I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry your dad doesn’t care. I’m sorry your brother left, I’m sorry you didn’t go with him, I’m sorry you took that damn tic-tac, I’m sorry you have those fucking flowers, god, I’m sorry…”

Rich feels the lead ball in his stomach loosen. It moves up his chest, makes a lump in his throat. His eyes sting. He lets out a small, broken sob, and curls his good (well, less bad) arm around Michael’s midsection. He shoves his face in Michael’s neck and cries into his hoodie, and he still half expects Michael to shove him away and leave, but he doesn’t. He holds him close, lets him cry, whispers small encouragements in his ear.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Rich, I’m so sorry, it’s okay, you’re safe now, you did so well, you’re so brave, Rich, I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been. It’s okay now. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Shit, Rich actually believes him.

He snuggles further into Michael’s hoodie (it’s so soft, what the fuck?), and breathes in the warm scent of weed and sugar and home. He feels Michael hold him close, not too tight, but enough to make him feel secure.

He doesn’t even realise he’s falling asleep until he slumps into Michael’s shoulder and his mind slips into nothingness.

oOo

It’s staring at him.

It’s kind of stupid, to be having a staring contest with a stuffed bear, but he does it anyways. It’s just – it’s freaking him out! How did it – how did it even get there?! _Why_ was it there, who put it there?! Rich just woke up a couple minutes ago and there was a fucking bear next to him! Like some horror movie type shit where there’s some creepy doll and you never see it move but then you turn around and suddenly it’s right behind you? That shit.

He’s broken out of his train of thoughts when a nurse walks into the room. She’s small, around Rich’s height, and slim, wearing light purple scrubs and a matching headscarf. Her nametag reads ‘Nebiha Mell’.

Oh, crap. That’s one of Michael’s moms.

Fuck.

She smiles at him gently and asks him those standard hospital questions. How is he feeling (fine), is everything okay (no but he says yes anyways), is he comfortable (see question two), has he noticed any pains or changes (you mean besides the vines strangling his lungs?)?

She takes his and Jeremy’s vitals, changes his bandages and rubs some kind of ointment on his burns. It’s a little awkward, because Rich isn’t really the biggest fan of having strangers rub oil on him, but Nebiha just gets it over and done with without paying too much attention to it, which makes it a little less embarrassing. She’s probably had to do this before.

“Uh, hey.” He says quietly as she moves to leave. “Did you, uh. You didn’t see anyone else come in here, right? Like – another nurse, or a, a visitor?”

Nebiha frowns, looks from him to the stuffed bear, and smiles knowingly.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t seen anyone else come in here. Except for my son, of course.”

She leaves, and Rich is left with a stuffed bear and a head full of questions.

(The more he thinks about it, it actually looks kind of cute)

oOo

“Feels like you’re missing a part of yourself, doesn’t it?”

Jeremy Heere blinks at him blearily.

“Hurts like a motherfucker, too.” Rich mutters. Jeremy just tilts his head at him in confusion. He looks kind of cute, actually. Like, Rich wouldn’t go for him, but he can see why Michael would.

“Be honest.” He mumbles, avoiding Jeremy’s gaze. “What’re they saying about me at school?”

Jeremy looks away and bites his lip.

“That bad, huh?” Rich chuckles bitterly.

“Sorry, man.” Jeremy says quietly.

“Ah, don’t be.” Rich shrugs. “I am… _finally_ free of that shiny, happy little hivemind. Guess I owe you one.”

Jeremy’s eyes widen before he realises Rich is joking.

“Oh, uh, no, no...” He laughs awkwardly. “I mean – if you’re gonna owe anyone, it’s Michael. Or Christine, but like, mostly Michael. He’s the one who brought the – the cure, or whatever, the-“

“Mountain Dew Red?” Rich says suddenly.

“Uh – yeah. That.”

Rich laughs then. It jostles his sore muscles and makes him wince, but he doesn’t really care.

“That beautiful bastard, he actually fuckin’ did it…” Jeremy frowns at him. “Uh – nothin’, nothin’. So, Michael…” Rich murmurs. “He’s been around a lot. Is he, uh… He your boyfriend or something?”

Jeremy chokes on air.

“No!” He splutters. “No, god, no, I mean – he’s my best friend, so yeah, I love the guy, but not – not like that…”

“Cool. Cool cool cool. Is he single?”

Jeremy narrows his eyes.

“That’s not funny.”

“Uh – what?”

“Just because Michael’s gay, doesn’t mean you get to-”

“Wh- no!” He says quickly. “No, I’m not trying to be a dick or anything, I’m really – I’m…” He trails off. “Oh my god.”

Jeremy frowns. “What?”

Rich looks at him in shock.

“I’m totally bi.”

They look at each other for a moment before they both dissolve into fits of laughter. Because it’s kind of funny, in a really fucked up way. Like – how did he not realise this sooner? He has a disease that’s caused by _unrequited love_ , that he got _because of Michael_ , and yet he somehow didn’t know he liked his guys how he liked his girls?

Bitterly, in the back of his mind, he knows it was that fucking glitched up tic-tac.

He’s laughing too much to care.

“Uh – what’s happening here?”

Rich grins at Michael, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m bi!” He declares, and he and Jeremy burst into more giggles.

“Um.” Michael blanks, and was Rich going crazy, or was there some pink in his cheeks? “Cool. Uh. I’m gay?”

“Stop, stop!” Jeremy wheezes. “Fuck, I can’t breathe!”

Michael frowns. “Why is that so funny?”

“I don’t! Know!” Jeremy gets out between giggles. Michael smiles at him fondly, and Rich’s laughter starts to fade.

“Okay then.” He chuckles, walking to Jeremy’s bedside and grabbing the curtain. “Hey Rich, private conversation, yeah?”

He yanks the curtain closed, and Rich swallows the flowers rising in his throat.

Well, screw them, he thinks bitterly. He has a stuffed bear to cuddle with. He don’t need no guy. Or gal. Or nonbinary pal.

Wow, pathetic pining aside, being bi was gonna be _fun_.

He tries to ignore the hushed whispers coming from behind the curtain. Instead, he cradles his bear to his chest and lets the soft fur brush against his cheek. He doesn’t fall asleep, but he closes his eyes and floats in that weird limbo space between consciousness and unconsciousness. He’s not sure how long it’s been when he finally opens his eyes, but the curtain opens and then Michael’s there, smiling down at him.

“Nice bear, dude.” He says, with the same knowing smile as his mother. Rich flushes and shoves the bear back on his bedside table.

“It’s, uh – it’s nothing.” Rich mumbles, looking at his hands. “Just a prank, it’s – it’s nothing.” He doesn’t know why he’s defending himself for having a bear. The SQUIP sucked, yeah, but at least it made him feel sort of confident.

Michael’s brow furrows, and he looks kind of upset, but Rich isn’t sure why.

“I don’t think it’s a prank.” He says. “It’s pretty cute.”

Rich’s face gets even hotter, and he knows Michael can see it because he chuckles gently, and makes his way to the door.

“See ya, guys.” He calls as he walks out of the room. It’s just three words, but it makes Rich’s stomach flip.

Guys. Plural. As in, Rich included.

That shouldn’t make him as happy as it is.

Suddenly, the petals become too much to swallow down, and he’s choking. He presses a hand over his mouth, gagging and spluttering into his palm. He feels blood spill over his lower lip.

“Rich?!” Jeremy squeaks. “Are – are you okay? Wait, no, that’s dumb, you’re not okay – should I get a nurse?”

Rich shakes his head furiously. He leans over his bed to the waste basket next to his bedside table. Red petals and crimson blood flood over his palm into the bin. He coughs and splutters and it _burns_ , so much, like the back of his throat’s being split right down the middle, and he really wishes he has one of Jake’s special drinks, with honey or mint or some other kind of naturalist shit that actually work wonders despite Rich’s scepticism.

Finally, the fit ends. He shakes his bloody palm over the waste basket, letting the excess petals and spit and grossness fall into the bin. He grabs some tissues and wipes down his hand and mouth, and then balls up some extra ones and carefully places them over the bloody mess in the bin. He looks up at Jeremy, who’s staring at him in horror and concern, and Rich can see him put two and two together.

“You have…” He murmurs. “F-For Michael-?”

“Don’t tell him.” Rich whispers, voice hoarse. “Please.”

Jeremy’s eyes burn into him, like he’s trying to memorise every detail of his face. Like this could be the last time Jeremy sees him.

Slowly, he nods.

“Rich, I-“

“Don’t.” Rich sighs. Jeremy’s face falls and Rich quickly backtracks. “I mean – it’s okay, you’re not – you didn’t do anything wrong, I just…” He sighs again, flopping back onto his bed. “I’m _tired_ , Jeremy.”

“… Okay.” Jeremy murmurs. “Okay, you – okay.”

Rich pulls his bear back to his chest and rolls over so Jeremy can’t see it. It’s kind of embarrassing, sleeping with a bear, and it’s not like he can just not care what people think now, because he’s back to being gross, lispy Rich Goranski who doesn’t have an ounce of cool or confidence in his body, but y’know what? Fuck that shit.

He wants his goddamn bear.

oOo

He’s let out of the hospital three days later.

Jeremy got out, like, the day after he woke up, but Rich still had to have his burns checked out and be asked a bunch of questions about the fire and shit.

Yes, he had been drinking.

Yes, it was an accident.

Yes, he understands how much danger he put everyone in.

Yes, he’ll drink responsibly from now on.

It turns out the Dillinger’s aren’t pressing charges. That’s something.

He goes back home. He doesn’t want to. When he walks through the door, his dad’s waiting in the living room, staring at him. Rich tenses, waiting for him to yell, scream, throw some shit – do _something_. But he just sits there. Staring. Like it’s the first time his dad’s really seeing him.

It looks like he’s about to say something, but Rich doesn’t let him. He just walks right past him to his room, and bolts the lock he’d carefully screwed in about two years ago, in the middle of the night, being careful not to wake up his father.

He carefully puts his bear down on his desk, next to his laptop, and logs on to Twitter. His notifications are flooded with tweets and messages about the fire.

He doesn’t read all of them – he only properly reads the first five, and then just skims the rest. But the theme is pretty much the same.

_YALL @jakeyd ‘S HALLOWEEN PARTY WAS FUCKING WILD @r_goddamnski SET A FUCKING F I R E LIKE OMG_

_what the fuck guys @r_goddamnski actually burned down @jakeyd ‘s house and now jake’s legs are broken what the hap is fuckening rn???_

_omg praying for u @jakeyd DX @r_goddamnski what the hell?!_

_lmao @jakeyd ‘s party was pretty LIT amiright_

_OMG YALL did @r_goddamnski die last night cuz people are saying he died like what the fuck???_

_@maddy-paris @r_goddamski he didn’t die, he’s in a psych ward rn_

_@kornonthekropp @maddy-paris @r_goddamnski no he like ran to bombay or smth_

_@imlohst @kornonthekropp @r_goddamnski wtf how did he get to fucking bombay in one night get your story straight sis lmao_

He’s not really sure what he was expecting. But it wasn’t this.

He lies down on his bed and stares at the ceiling. His face pinches, like he wants to cry, but can’t remember how.

oOo

School is shitty.

Like, shittier than normal.

Do you know that feeling where you walk into a room and you immediately know that everyone’s been talking about you? Imagine that. Now imagine it times a million.

Yeah.

Everyone’s staring. Their eyes burn into his skin. He’d worn a flannel over his shirt, and long baggy pants, despite the weather, just to cover up the thick burn scars. It wasn’t enough. The burn on his face spreads over the collar of his flannel and splashes over the side of his face spilt paint. He tried covering it up with some of his mothers old makeup that had somehow survived the walking ball of rage that was his father, but the shade was a little too dark, and it looked like he had some weird skin growth on his face, so he left it. He thought it’d be fine. It wasn’t.

He makes his way to his locker, next to Jake’s, and can make out three people standing at Jake’s locker; Brooke, Jenna and Chloe, talking in hushed tones. Someone hobbles up behind them, and they move aside to make way for –

Fuck.

It’s Jake. His legs are covered in large casts that reach all the way up to his thighs. He hops to his locker and balances himself on a pair of crutches. He tries to open his locker himself, but he wobbles on his crutches and Jenna has to stabilize him while he regains his balance and Chloe opens his locker for him. Brooke pats his shoulder and smiles at him, and then her gaze flicks to Rich and she freezes. Jake frowns and follows her gaze. His face falls into a blank state of shock. Rich feels his heart thrum in his chest. People are whispering, Jake is staring, Brooke and Jenna keep their eyes on him while they murmur to each other, Chloe looks like she can’t decide between glaring or crying, and suddenly it’s too loud, too much, _please stop-!_

“Heya, Richie!”

Rich jumps as an arm slings over his shoulders. Michael grins down at him, and everything quiets down.

“C’mon, bell’s about to ring. You have Calc first period, right, with me and Jeremy?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just steers Rich towards his locker and stands to his side so that he’s acting like a wall between him and Jake and the rest. “Yeah, you missed some stuff, but you can borrow my notes if you want. Come sit with me and Jer, I can help you guys out if you don’t understand.”

Rich puts in his combination with shaky hands and fumbles for his books. Michael just nudges him to the side and grabs them for him.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m _great_ at maths and shit, but like, I’m aggressively _average_ at it.” He holds Rich’s books for him and grabs him by the wrist, pulling him down the corridor to his homeroom. “Hah, that’s funny. Aggressively average. Like, you’re so normal it’s _intense_. Just a funny concept, don’tcha think?”

Sounds like the opposite of being SQUIPed, really…

Michael barks a laugh, and Rich realises too late that he said that out loud.

“Y’know, you’re a pretty funny guy, Rich.” He says sincerely. There’s no trace of mockery in his voice – at least, not that Rich can sense. “Hey, why don’tcha sit with me and Jer at lunch? We can be like, the Losers Club. Uh – not calling you a loser! It’s a reference. From IT?”

Rich frowns. “The clown movie?”

Michael laughs again. “Yeah, the clown movie. Jeremy’s terrified of it, y’know, he screams at every tiny jump scare, it’s hilarious. Oh, shoot, I gotta go! See ya in Calc?”

Rich frowns again, looking around to realise they’re right outside his homeroom. When did that happen?

“Uh – yeah.” He mumbles, looking at Michael in awe. “Yeah, I’ll, uh. See you.”

“Awesome.” Michael grins. “Catch you later, my good dude!”

And then the bell goes and he’s jogging down the corridor, waving like a crazy person.

Still. Rich can’t help but wave back. A small smile spreads on his face.

School’s shitty, yeah, but at least it has Michael.

oOo

When Rich goes to Jeremy and Michael’s table at lunch, Jeremy looks simultaneously shocked, confused and scared. Which is kind of well deserved, Rich supposes, but still. They had a bonding moment, didn’t they? Rude.

“Uh, hey, guys.”

 _Guyth_. Ugh.

“D’you mind if I, uh-“

Don’t say ‘sit’, that’s an ‘S’ word and ‘S’s are bad right now-

“-eat here today?”

Jeremy bites his lip and glances at Michael, but Michael doesn’t notice. He’s smiling at Rich with pleasant surprise, and Rich feels so proud to be the focus of that smile.

“Sure thing, bro!” Michael grins, patting the seat next to him as an invitation. Rich lets himself sit, but then Jeremy squirms uncomfortably and he immediately regrets it. “Whaddya got?”

“Um. Pizza lunchables...?”

“Oh _god_ , now there’s two of you.” Michael groans. At Rich’s confusion, he elaborates, “Jeremy lives solely off of lunchables. His dad makes him pack an orange so he’s, like, somewhat healthy, but he just gives it to me instead. It’s shameful, really.”

“Hey, I don’t hear you complaining!” Jeremy says indignantly. “Besides, lunchables are nice! Rich, back me up, here!”

“Uh!” Fuck, he actually has to talk? “I mean, well…” He mumbles. “Yeah? Like, they’re affordable and shit, and they don’t taste horrible, and you can get different ones, so… Yeah. Superior lunch snack.”

“See!” Jeremy grins smugly. “Rich gets it!”

Michael gasps in mock-horror.

“Betrayal!” He screeches. “Rich, you have _betrayed_ me!

“I can’t help it if you’re wrong!”

“Get _rekt_ , Michael!”

“I can’t believe this. Get out of my house.”

“We’re at school-?”

“Out of my house! Both of you! Begone, thots!”

And just like that, he’s a part of the group. And yes, he does miss Jake’s puppy-like presence, Jenna’s constant drama updates, Brooke’s sweet comfort – hell, he even misses Chloe’s rants about, quote unquote, _that bitch Madeline,_ but still. Being here. With Michael gesturing wildly and Jeremy laughing so hard that milk comes out of his nose.

It’s pretty nice.

oOo

“Can we talk?”

Rich wonders if it would be rude to flip over the table and run.

(He supposes it’s a little unnecessary to flip the table and then run, when he could just run and not flip anything and probably get away even faster, but hey, when you have a chance to flip a table, _you flip the goddamn table_ )

It’s not just Jake. Chloe, Jenna and Brooke seem to emerge behind him and sit down at their table – huh, _their_ table – Brooke and Chloe chatting away and Jenna glued to her phone, occasionally adding some input, like this is a normal occurrence. Christine’s there too – she takes the seat closest to Jeremy, who blushes and smiles nervously, his eyes only on her. Rich winces, risking a glance at Michael, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His gaze flicks from Rich to Jake, brow furrowing. He grabs his plastic fork like a knife, which is… nice (?), but Rich doesn’t really want anyone to get maimed today.

“Sure.” He says, not wincing or biting his tongue when he lisps. He doesn’t really care about it anymore. It’s just… A thing.

Michael gapes at him, and shoots him a look which seems to say, _you sure about this, man?_ Rich sends him his best _yes, sure, but please send a search party after me if I don’t return in ten minutes and try not to stab anyone with a fork_ look.

Rich is very expressive.

He follows Jake to the hallway. Usually, he has to jog to keep up with Jake’s long strides, but now that he’s hobbling, Rich keeps up just fine. It’s strange, but he finds himself missing the little jogs down the corridor.

They stop, and Rich prepares for the worst.

“Look, Jake, I-“

“I’m sorry.”

Wait. Was that supposed to happen?

“I know I should’ve visited you, and – and it was so shitty of me to just ignore everything that was happening and what you were going through but I was just –“ Jake sighs heavily, leaning more on one crutch so he could rake one hand through his hair. “I was scared, Rich. And I know that’s selfish, and I know I shouldn’t’ve just cut you out like that, and I’m just-“ His voice cracks. Rich feels a pang in his stomach. “I’m _so sorry_ , Rich.”

“Jake…” Rich murmurs. “You don’t – you don’t have to do that, man, you’re – you’re my best friend-“

“But I’m not!” He cries. “Jeremy – he told me what happened and like – I don’t really get all of it, but. You weren’t you. I only knew the – the robo-hivemind version of you, I never even bothered to notice you before then, I- why aren’t you hating me right now?!”

“Are you kidding me?!” Rich laughs. “I thought you’d hate me, I – I burned down your _house_ , Jake, how are you the selfish one here?!”

“Because I couldn’t help!” Jake all but shouts. “Like – I could _see_ you were struggling and I couldn’t do anything! With the – the flowers, and the SQUIP, and then you-“ A hiccup bubbles in his throat, cutting him off. “You tried to…”

“Dude.” Rich chuckles, grabbing Jake’s shoulders. “You fucking – you offered to _fall in love with me_ , Jake, you – you ran into a burning building for me! You did everything you could, it just…” He sighs. “It wasn’t enough.”

They fall into a small lull of silence. Jake clears his throat, attempting to wipe his eyes with his shoulder.

“Damn.” He laughs softly. “We’re fuckin’ messes, huh?”

“Out of the two of us, I’d say I’m the bigger mess here. You’re like – an above average mess.”

Jake makes a noise that’s somewhere between a cough and a laugh.

“It’s Michael, isn’t it?” He mumbles. Rich feels his spine stiffen. “The – the flowers. It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Am I thought obvious?” Rich chuckles bitterly.

“The way you look at him. It’s like Jeremy with Christine.” Like Michael with Jeremy. “Kind of hard not to notice.”

“Clearly not to him.”

“Christ.” Jake sighs. “This is… This is so fucked up, man.”

Rich can’t really argue with him there.

“It’s getting better.” He says gently. “Like – being around him, I guess. It makes it hurt less?”

Jake raises an eyebrow.

“You’re unrequited feelings hurt less when you’re around the person you have unrequited feelings for?”

Jake’s annoying when he’s right.

“I know it doesn’t make sense.” Rich huffs. “But – it’s working, so.”

Jake sighs again, and shuffles on his crutches.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Rich.”

It’s barely a whisper, but it still feels like a punch in the gut.

“Jake…” He murmurs, taking a small step towards him.

“It’s just-“ Jake cuts himself off with a sob. Rich can see tears welling in his eyes. “I really tried, y’know? Like – I-I tried to focus on all the good stuff you do and like, I tried to find you cute ‘n’ stuff, not that you aren’t, like, you are hot, dude, I just couldn’t… _Feel_ it. You’re my bro, bro.”

Rich chokes out a laugh.

“You’re my bro, too, bro.”

He takes another step and pulls Jake into a hug. It’s a little awkward, because of the height difference, and Jake can’t really use his legs so Rich has to grip him around the waist and hoist him up slightly so all his weight isn’t on the ground. They end up with Rich leaning back a little, half-carrying Jake, and Jake draped over him like a human blanket with his arms wrapped around Rich’s middle.

“I don’t want you to die, Rich.” He mumbles into Rich’s hair.

Rich sighs and hugs him tighter.

“Me neither.”

Michael finds them a few minutes later, like that – Jake slumped over him while Rich bends his back slightly to support both of their weight. He smiles and nods gently, and wanders back to the cafeteria to give them some time to pull themselves together.

They walk back to the table, arms slung around each other’s shoulders and laughing like they used to. Jeremy shoots Rich a finger gun (which, as a bisexual, Rich very much appreciates). Brooke and Christine ‘aww’ at them and Jenna looks up from her phone screen and smirks. Chloe actually smiles at him, a small smile that Rich doesn’t notice at first, but Rich still appreciates it.

Michael has a small smile on his face, but there’s also a small trace of confusion in his eyes that Rich doesn’t really understand. Michael’s gaze flick between Jake and Rich, searching for something. He looks at Jeremy for a moment and frowns, and looks back to Rich. Rich can see the wires in his brain sparking.

He slips into the seat next to Michael and elbows him gently, silently telling him to get out of his own brain for a sec. Michael smirks and nudges Rich’s thigh with his own, sliding on his headphones and bopping his head to Marley as their friends (?) talk around them.

Rich’s chest feels warm, but it doesn’t burn.

That’s something.

oOo

Jeremy and Christine are dating.

They don’t really say anything – they just walk down the corridor holding hands, smiling at each other gently, and everyone knows.

“’Bout time.” Chloe huffs, rolling her eyes, but she still gives Jeremy a friendly punch on the shoulder to show her congratulations. Chloe’s weird. It’s awesome.

Rich risks a look back at Michael. He’s staring at Jeremy and Christine, but he doesn’t look sad. Just… Confused.

“Hey.” Rich says quietly, nudging him with his shoulder. Michael jumps slightly, and whips his head around to face Rich. Michael looks at him for a moment, scanning his face for… Rich isn’t really sure what.

“You okay?” Rich asks softly. Michael smiles at him, and it’s not quite his special sunshine smile, but it’s pretty close.

“Yeah.” He murmurs, nudging Rich back and smiling gently. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Rich smiles back.

“Okay.”

oOo

He packs a bag in the middle of the night.

He’s had enough. He can’t live here anymore, and he’s done worrying about the ‘what if’s. He knows he can’t take everything, so he just takes a some clothes, his wallet, his laptop, and the things most important to him.

The baseball Stephen caught for him at their first baseball game. It wasn’t even a foul ball, someone could’ve caught it, but Steve had seen how Rich’s face would light up when the ball flew above them, and how his face would fall when he failed to catch it, so he ducked under the railings and leaned down and swiped it from right above one of the players heads. A lot of people yelled and threw their garbage at him, but he smiled nonetheless and handed it to Rich proudly. Rich kind of felt bad taking it – Stephen was the one who caught it, after all – but Steve would wrap Rich’s tiny little hands around it when he tried to give it back and tell him it was a gift, just for Rich, special.

The little blue lamb he kept hidden in his sock drawer. It was his first toy, ever since he was a baby. His mother had picked it out special. He took it everywhere with him, until he started elementary school, when his father had taken it from his hands and refused to give it back because ‘real men don’t carry around toys, Richard’. His mom had scolded him and handed the little lamb back to Rich, but he didn’t want to take it after that. He couldn’t throw it away, though, so he just stuffed it in his drawer, only pulling it out when things got too much for him to handle. Never around his father, though.

The ticket stubs from the first movie he went to see with Jake. No one had ever asked him to hang out before, so when Jake had asked Rich if he wanted to come see the new Captain America movie with him, Rich was obviously excited. The SQUIP had rolled it’s eyes at Rich’s excitement, but it let him keep the ticket stubs.

The stuffed bear from the hospital. That’s a no-brainer. He still doesn’t know who gave it to him – his only suspects are Michael, who he ruled off as wishful thinking, and Nebiha, which didn’t make any sense. He takes it anyways, though. It was his only comfort back then. There was no way he was leaving it behind.

He looks at the two pictures on his desk. One of them is a framed family photo, taken when he was about five. He’s sitting on his dads shoulders, smiling shyly at the camera. His mom has an arm wrapped around her husband’s waist, and his dad has his arm slung over her shoulders. Stephen is in the middle, smiling politely. The second is a loose photo Rich kept propped up on his lamp. The corners are curling and the colour on the edges is fading, but he can still see the actual picture.

It’s him, Stephen and his mother. He and Stephen look about the same age, but his mother looks exhausted. She’s pale, and there are slight bags under her eyes and lines carved into the skin around her mouth. It’d barely been a year after the other photo, but she’d aged so much.

The photo isn’t even that great, either. Rich is blinking, and Stephen’s winking at the camera and flashing two cheesy peace signs. Just looking at him makes Rich cringe. His mother’s not even looking at the camera, but is instead smiling wide at Rich, using both hands to ruffle his hair while Rich squeals and bats her away.

He lays the first photo face down on the desk, places the loose one carefully in the front pocket of his backpack, and leaves.

He quietly pads down the hall and turns into the living room, carefully opening and closing the door behind him. When he turns around, he notices his dad sitting on the couch, bottle in hand, staring at him. He doesn’t move. Just watches.

Rich kind of wants to say something. He wants to tell him everything, about how it’s his fault Stephen’s gone, how he had no right to make everything about him and not even care how him or Steve felt, how he ruined Rich’s life, how if mom could see what he’d become, she’d go, too.

But he doesn’t say anything. And neither does his dad. They don’t know how to say anything to each other without yelling.

His dad turns back to the TV. He doesn’t drink his beer. Just looks at it, thoughtfully.

Rich grits his teeth, marches to the door and doesn’t look back.

oOo

He’s freezing once he reaches Michael’s doorstep.

He would’ve gone to Jake’s – it makes a lot more sense, really. Jake has his own apartment now, with a spare bedroom and everything, and he’s known Rich longer than Michael has. But his apartment is all the way across town, and Rich is so cold, and so, so tired.

He knocks gently on the door. He hears barking on the other side. He didn’t know Michael had a dog. It makes sense. Michael seems like a dog person.

There’s faint yelling inside the house, one voice he knows is Michael, the other must be one of his moms.

The door opens.

“Dude, now is so not the time to be selling shit-“

He takes in Rich’s shivering form, the tear tracks spilling down his cheeks, and the stuffed bag slung over his shoulder.

“… Can I stay here tonight?” Rich mumbles, staring at his feet. “Please?”

Michael take’s Rich by the shoulder and pulls him out of the cold.

oOo

Michael’s dog is called Nutmeg and Rich loves her more than anything in this world.

(He knows the flowers in his lungs say otherwise but shut up, she’s a good girl and he loves her)

Michael’s moms were okay with Rich staying. Nebiha took one look at him and pulled him into a motherly embrace, stroking his back gently and making quiet shushing noises in his ear. Michael’s other mother, Phoebe, patted his head affectionately and set off to the kitchen to make him a mug of hot chocolate.

Rich had almost started crying again.

“C’mon.” Michael says quietly, tugging on his arm. “We can go to my room.”

The moment he walks into Michael’s basement, Nutmeg perks up and trots over to him, stumbling on her three legs, and curiously sniffs at his ankles.

“Don’t mind her.” Michael smiles gently. “She’s nosy.”

Rich kneels down slowly, so as not to scare her, and holds out his hand. She sniffs it gently, and then gives him a tiny lick over his knuckles. Rich gasps softly, craning his neck to face Michael.

“I love her.”

Michael laughs at his sudden declaration. “Seems like she likes you too, man. She normally isn’t that friendly with strangers.”

“I am blessed.” Rich whispers in awe, stroking Nutmeg’s curly head gently.

He doesn’t notice Michael smiling at them both fondly.

“I’ll get your hot chocolate.” Michael says quietly, ruffling Rich’s hair as he walks back upstairs. He’s barely even left the room before Nutmeg jumps him, planting her front leg on his shoulder and her stump against his chest and licking his face happily.

“Whoa – hey! Easy!” Rich laughs, carding his fingers through her corkscrew curls and tilting his head so he doesn’t get any dog slobber in his mouth. “Aw, good girl! Who’s a good girl?”

Her tail waves rhythmically back and forth, and she pushes her snout harder into Rich’s cheek, as if to say _me, me!_

“You’re a good girl! Aren’t you? Aren’t you?” Rich coos, rubbing her back and letting her clamber onto his lap. “Aww, sweet girl! Aren’t you just the cutest?” He carefully moves her stump so it’s resting on his shoulder instead stabbing him in the stomach, shaking the soft, malleable skin of her stomach gently. “Sweet girl, I love you!”

Nutmeg lifts her nose from his cheek and barks at something behind him. Rich turns and, oh, fuck, how long has Michael been standing there?

He stares at Rich with widened eyes, his hands wrapped loosely around a steaming mug. Maybe it’s just a trick of the light, but Rich swears he sees splashes of red tinting his cheeks.

“… She needs to know how good she is.” Rich states simply. Michael snorts, ruffles his hair again and it feels like he lets it linger. Rich bites the inside of his cheek. Thinking like that is only going to make this worse.

“I don’t wanna press you or anything, but… you got anywhere else to stay?” Michael frowns with concern. “I mean, you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need, but I’m not sure if my moms can handle two kids and a dog under one roof.”

“Jake has a spare room at his apartment.” Rich smiles. “Have you got his number? I haven’t got a new phone yet.”

Michael hums, tapping on his cell.

“He should text back in a few, but you’re good here for the night. You have pyjamas, yeah?” Michael asks, wiping imaginary dust off his bed. “I can sleep on the couch upstairs, but I think Nutmeg’ll wanna stay down here with you. She really likes you, dude, you’re like, the Nutmeg whisperer or something.”

Rich grins at the compliment, but falters at the overall message.

“Wait – why do you take the couch?” He frowns. “It’s your bed.”

“Yeah, but, y’know.” Michael shrugs. “You’re the guest.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“That is exactly how it works, it’s in the host handbook.”

“The-“ Rich tries not to snort. “The _host handbook_?”

“Yep. The host handbook.” Michael says in all seriously. “And I have the only copy, so _mleh_.”

He sticks out his tongue and Rich has to laugh at how ridiculously cute and silly this whole situation is.

“You’re not taking to couch, Mike, it’s _your house_. I’m the one who barged in here unannounced, I’ll take the couch.”

“I am the host, and I insist you take the bed!”

“I am the guest, and I insist you will be a bad host if you make me take the bed!”

“C’mon, Rich, it’s how it works! Guest takes bed, host takes couch, it’s like a law of the universe!” Michael exclaims, arms spread out to show just how important this was. “Do you want to send the universe into chaos, Rich? Do you?!”

“Oh, for fucks sake!” Rich groans, grabbing Michael by his shoulders and shoving him onto the bed and _whoa_ , this got risqué real quick, oops.

Michael gapes at him from where he’s sprawled on the bed, his cheeks flushing crimson.

“Uh – w-we can share.” Rich clarifies, feeling his face heat up. “I mean, if you don’t mind. Like – _I_ don’t, but I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable and shit, or-“

Michael grabs his wrist and pulls him onto the bed next to him. Rich squawks, landing with his right arm and leg sprawled over Michael’s chest and legs, and the rest of his body falling onto the bed.

“Now we’re even.” Michael grins.

“Ass.” Rich huffs, shoving Michael’s shoulder gently. “I’m gonna go change, you got a bathroom I can use?”

“Upstairs to the right.”

He grabs his backpack and takes the stairs two at a time, quickly petting Nutmeg before he goes, and quickly changes into his dumb Bat-Man PJs – a hand-me-down from his brother. They’re a size too big, so the sleeves reach his fingers and the pants hang loosely on his hips, but he doesn’t care. He don’t got no SQUIP anymore, he can wear what he wants! Honestly, it’s kind of freeing.

He pads back downstairs, making sure to give Nutmeg plenty of lovin’ as he walks past her. Michael seems to have changed into his own sleep clothes while Rich was gone.

“Jake just texted, he says he can pick you up tomorrow morn-“ Michael falters as he turns to face Rich, eyes widening and a splash of pink tinting his cheeks.

“Uh…” Rich mumbles as Michael gapes at him. “Something wrong, dude? What, do I have something on my face or something?”

“Uh, no!” Michael says quickly, breaking out of his trance. “Sorry, I just – sorry. Spaced out for a sec.”

Rich shrugs, sitting stiffly on Michael’s bed. Michael rolls his eyes, pushing Rich’s shoulder gently.

“You can get comfier than that, ya weirdo. Wall side’s mine, though.”

Rich nods and snuggles under Michael’s warm blankets, sighing contently. Michael clears his throat awkwardly, still not looking at him, and has to awkwardly clamber over Rich to reach the wall side. Rich tries to make his blush die down. Not now, bisexuality!

Michael reaches over him one last time and flicks the light off, plunging them in darkness. It make’s Rich’s stomach drop for a moment, but then he feels Michael’s warmth radiating from behind him, and it makes him feel safer.

“I didn’t know you liked Bat-Man.” Michael mumbles into the darkness.

“I don’t.” Rich says, turning to face Michael and nuzzling into his soft pillows. “My brother loved DC though, so I got them from him. I always preferred Marvel.”

“Seriously?” He can hear Michael’s smile. “Me too. Jeremy likes DC, the heathen.”

“Yeah? Okay, favourite superhero, go.”

“Oh, that’s gotta be Deadpool.”

“Oof, sorry, Mell, my man.” Rich winces. “We are not going to get along. I’m a die hard Thor fan.”

“Eh, he’s a close second. I think we’ll be fine.”

“We can both agree Spider-Man’s awesome, though, right?”

“Fuck yeah. But he’s totally useless unless he’s in a big city.”

“Damn, you’re spitting truth tonight, Mell.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know this about you.” Michael says fondly. “Like, after the hospital and everything, I knew you weren’t as terrible as I thought you were-“

“Really feeling the love here, headphones.”

“But we have a lot more in common than I thought.”

Rich hopes Michael can’t see his shy smile.

“Yeah, well.” He murmurs. “Guess the SQUIP didn’t think being a total geek-nerd was exactly cool.”

Michael goes quiet.

“The SQUIP was wrong about a lot of things, though.” Rich says quickly. “Honestly, I’m kinda enjoying being a total geek-nerd again.”

“Yeah?” Michael smiles. “So tell me, what kind of shenanigans did geek-nerd Goranski get up to back in the day?”

“First of all, never talk like that again, ever, or I will end you.” Rich threatens with no real bite. “And second, I’ll have you know I was quite the Pokemon trainer in my geek-nerd days!”

“You know Pokemon?” Michael asks with delight.

“I did have a childhood, Mike, of course I know Pokemon.”

“Alright, alright! Favourite starter? Don’t say Pikachu!”

“I’m not some basic bitch!” Rich says in mock-disgust. “My fave will always be Charmander.”

“Ooh, I’m a Bulbasaur fan, myself.”

“Bulbasaur’s a leaf dinosaur, I’ll accept that. I chose him when I started over my Pokemon Red game, but I went back to Charmander when I completed it again. The lizard dude just gets me.”

“Damn.” Michael chuckles, low and breathy and _wow_. “How many times did you play that game?”

“Like, seven, I think.” Rich laughs. “When I first got the SQUIP, it made me burn my DS with the game inside. I think I cried for like, three days or something. It ended up blocking my tear ducts just to shut me up, can you believe that?”

Michael doesn’t laugh with him. He seeps into a tense silence.

“That is… Probably the most horrible thing I’ve ever heard.” He says into the shadows. Rich cringes under the covers.

 _You messed up, you messed up, he hates you_ -

“Sorry.” He mumbles. “That – that wasn’t a good story, I shouldn’t’ve-“

“No, Rich, I’m not mad at you!” Michael says quickly. “I’m mad at that fucking tic-tac, that’s… That’s the shittiest thing I’ve ever heard! Shit, y’know what? I’m gonna get you the best DS eight dollars can buy, and we’re gonna play Pokemon and battle each other all fucking day, and I will kick your Charmander’s ass with my Bulbasaur, so be prepared to get _rekt_ , son.”

Rich feels his eyes well up.

“Mike…” He says quietly, voice bubbling in his throat. Michael tenses beside him.

“Shit, no, I wasn’t trying to – are you crying? Shit, you’re crying, fuck, I’m sorry, Rich, I-“

Rich grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him into a hug. Michael tenses slightly, before unwinding himself and wrapping his arms against Rich’s midsection. Rich sighs, burrowing into Michael’s sweet warmth. Michael pets his hair gently, nosing Rich’s neck.

“Thank you, Michael.” Rich whispers. “Seriously, not just for that, like – for everything, _thank you-“_

“It’s okay.” Michael says gently. “Of course, Rich, I would help you a million times, you don’t have to thank me. Okay?”

Rich snuggles into Michael’s shoulder, smiling against his skin.

“Okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things keep moving.

When Rich wakes up, his nose is squashed against Michael’s collarbone, one of his legs has gone dead, he’s pretty sure Michael’s drooled in his hair, and he honestly doesn’t want to be anywhere else but here right now.

Michael looks nice when he’s asleep. He thinks less, so that little crease that’s usually between his eyebrows has gone for now, making him look more peaceful. Content. He’s not wearing his glasses, something Rich didn’t realise last night. He looks nice.

Rich kind of wants to kiss him, press his lips to Michael’s jaw or his cheekbone, but… Michael’s asleep and, y’know. Consent.

Michael probably won’t like this position when he wakes up, though, Rich sighs to himself. Carefully, he pulls his dead leg out from where it’s trapped between Michael’s, and slowly tries to remove Michael’s arms from his waist.

Michael makes a small noise of protest in the back of his throat and tightens his hold, pulling Rich even closer, so that Rich’s face is now smushed against Michael’s neck. Michael sighs contently, nuzzling Rich’s hair. Rich tries to contain his growing blush.

He tries to push away one last time, but Michael’s grip tightens again and _ah_ , air, air!! Rich squirms a little and loosens Michael’s hold just slightly so he can breathe. Damn, the guy has a real bear hug, doesn’t he? Rich sighs, nosing Michael’s jaw. Might as well make himself comfortable.

He snuggles further into Michael’s warmth. Everything keeps moving, but it feeld a lot more manageable with Michael by his side.

oOo

He wakes up again, and instead of Michael, he comes face to face with Nutmeg.

She wrinkles her nose in a little doggy smile and happily licks his face, which is sweet of her, but Rich still gags a little at the stench of dog breath. He pulls himself up and runs his fingers through her curls. Nutmeg snuffles his shirt and collapses on his lap, which is a little bit awkward, considering she’s not the smallest dog, so her lower half slumps over his legs onto the bed. Her stump is stabbing him in the stomach, so Rich carefully takes it in his hand and lays it over his legs.

“Good girl…” He murmurs sleepily. “Good girl…”

Blearily, he starts to feel a tight itchy sensation on his face. Ugh. His burns never feel good in the morning, and Nutmeg’s face-lick must’ve irritated the scar on his face even more.

Not that that was Nutmegs fault, of course. Nutmeg was perfect and wonderful and had never done anything wrong in her life.

Still, his face does itch. Rich knows he’s not supposed to scratch his burns, so he pulls his sleeve over his hand and rubs at it gently. It doesn’t help. If anything, it makes it worse. He grunts in frustration, digging his nails into the skin. He yelps in his throat when the skin catches and pulls painfully, but he doesn’t stop. He really just wants it to go away, just for a few seconds, is that too much to ask?

“Whoa, hey!”

Someone tugs his arms away. Rich’s eyes snap open and Michael’s sitting in front of him, scowling in frustration.

“I _told_ you you shouldn’t do that!” He scolds. Rich squirms under his gaze.

“Sorry…” He mumbles. Michael’s face softens.

“Hey, relax, man, it’s okay. I’ve got something for ya!” He grins, pulling out a small tub of cream from his hoodie pocket. He hasn’t gotten changed – just shoved it over his pyjamas. He looks like a big teddy bear.

“My mom got it from the pharmacy this morning. It should keep your burns from getting all dry and itchy and shit. Here.” Instead of giving Rich the tub, Michael opens it himself, scooping a small amount of the cream on his fingers. “You don’t really need that much. It goes a long way.” He frowns at Nutmeg, still keeping her place on Rich’s lap.

“Meggie.” Michael sighs. “You gotta move, girl.”

Nutmeg stares at him, as if to say, _foolish mortal, you think you can control me? Kneel before your god, peasant._

At least, that’s what Rich thinks she’s saying.

“C’mon, Meggie!” Michael huffs, nudging her gently with his free arm. Nutmeg moves to sit up and, looking Michael right in the eye, confidently licks the unburned side of Rich’s face.

“Traitor.” Michael mutters.

“Uh, what?”

“Nothing!” He says quickly as Nutmeg jumps from the bed to the floor. She stumbles slightly, and hobbles away on her three legs. Rich sighs happily. She’s a good girl.

“Here, gimme your face.” Michael mutters. Rich bites his lip to smother his snort.

“’Give me your face’?” He quotes, raising an eyebrow. Michael barks a laugh, miming ripping off his face and fake-screaming as he rubs cream on it and sticks it back on.

Rich does snort, then, a full on nasally snort from the back of his throat. He yelps, covering his mouth as if to stuff the noise back in.

“What…” Michael asks, a slow grin spreading up his face. “What was _that_?”

“Nothing!” Rich squeaks. “It – it was nothing!”

“No, it was definitely something!”

“Shut up!” Rich groans, shoving Michael’s face with his hand. “Just – just forget about it!”

“No, hey!” Michael smiles, holding Rich’s face with his free hand. “I’m not making fun of you, Rich. It was cute is all.”

Cute.

Cute.

Michael thought he was cute.

Okay. That’s something.

“Here, just hold still…” Michael murmurs, carefully smearing the cream over the burn on Rich’s cheek. It’s cold, and makes him shiver at first, but it soothes the itch and leaves a pleasant feeling behind. Rich sighs, leaning into Michael’s touch.

Michael rubs the rest of the cream into his skin until it’s absorbed completely. Rich expects him to pull away, but he stays, cupping Rich’s jaw with his hand. Rich looks away, but still pushes gently into Michael’s palm. Michael smiles affectionately, catching Rich’s eye, and Rich can’t look away. He swipes his thumb over Rich’s cheekbone and-

Wait.

Did his eyes just flick to Rich’s lips for a second? Rich licks them out of habit, and Michael’s eyes zero in on the action and _wait,_ was he leaning in? Rich feels his eyelids slip, leaning towards him, and-

Someone knocks at the door, and they both leap away. Rich’s head thuds against Michael’s bedframe, and it knocks some sense back into him.

“Jake!” Michael yells, scrambling off of the bed. “That’s, uh – that’s Jake, I-I’ll just – I’ll get the door for him.” He says quickly, fleeing from the room.

Rich’s stomach clenches painfully.

_You ruined it, you ruined it, he hates you-_

He feels tears well in his eyes.

_You’re disgusting, he hates you, he wants you gone-_

His chest tightens, and he can’t breathe.

_He hates you he hates you he hates you, did you really think he’d choose you?!_

Something big, larger than the petals, clogs up his throat entirely. Rich chokes and gags, his throat contracting around it, trying to push it out, get it out, he can’t _breathe_ -!

He retches, and a whole flower falls into his palm. The petals are dry and wilting, crusted together with dried blood. Suddenly, his chest loosens. He gasps, sucking in a breath. He can breathe.

He frowns at the dead flower in his hand. What does this mean? What’s happening?

He hears voices from upstairs. He shoves the flower into Michael’s waste basket and quickly changes into his regular clothes.

“Hey, Richie G!” Jake grins from his wheelchair as Rich pads upstairs. Michael refuses to look at him, instead staring at the ground. “You ready to see your new fortress of solitude?”

“Um.” Oh shit, this is the part where he comes up with a clever comeback. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Never mind.

Jake frowns, but doesn’t ask him what’s wrong, which Rich appreciates.

“Well, let’s get movin’!” He smiles, wheeling himself out the door. “I brought my wheelchair so you can push me, let’s Tokyo Drift this shit!”

“Sure thing, man!” Rich forces a laugh. He turns to Michael, who still won’t look at him. “Uh – thanks, Mike. For everything.”

Michael nods stiffly. “Yeah. Course, man.”

Rich bites the inside of his cheek. He hears the telltale click-clack of Nutmegs claws on the wooden floor, and she lollops over to him, pressing her snout to his leg.

“Hey, girl.” Rich laughs sadly. “Aw, who’s a good girl? Who’s my favourite girl?”

Nutmeg gives him a doggy smile, dancing around his legs playfully.

“That’s enough, Meggie.” Michael says, grabbing her by the collar and gently pulling her away. “Rich’s gotta go now.”

Rich swallows the lump in his throat.

“Yeah.” He sighs, leaning forward to pet Nutmeg’s curly head gently. “I’ll see ya, Meg.”

He probably won’t. He doubts Michael will be letting him back into his house any time soon.

Jake’s waiting for him outside. Rich doesn’t look at him, just grabs the handles of his wheelchair and starts pushing him back to his apartment.

“So…” Jake drawls. “You gonna tell me what happened, or am I gonna have to pull it out of you?”

“Later.” Rich sighs. Jake smiles at him gently. Rich tries to smile back, but it comes out as more of a grimace.

He’s so tired.

oOo

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Rich fights the urge to slam his head against his locker.

“I know that.” He grits out. Jake raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Do you? ‘Cause you seem pretty fine just running away from it all.”

“I’m not running away!” Rich snaps, slamming his locker door. “I try to talk to him, he blows me off, I try to sit by him in class, he goes to another table, I walk near him and he runs away from me! Well, fuck that, I’m done trying!”

“Trying’s better than just standing here moping about it!” Jake counters. “Look, Rich – you said so yourself, they’re gone. The flowers are _gone_. And you still-“ He looks around and lowers his voice. “You still love him, don’t you? So it has to mean that-“

“Well, it’s wrong, then!” Rich snarls. “Because he doesn’t love me. Alright? And he never will. So we should just forget about it.”

“You can’t just forget about something like this, Rich.”

“Watch me.” Rich huffs, striding away from his friend.

“Rich, wait! Where are you going?! Hey!”

He goes to the bathrooms and sits in one of the stalls until the final bell rings. Jake tries to talk to him on the way home, but Rich shuts him down. When they get back to the apartment, he makes a beeline for his room and locks the door behind him.

Not even ten seconds later, he’s running back out, tackling Jake into a hug and sobbing into his chest.

Jake chuckles gently, petting Rich’s hair.

They talk it out. Jake apologises for pressing. Rich apologises for being a bitch.

They watch Sharknado and laugh at the shitty CGI and drink some weirdass tea Christine gave them (it’s weird, but also kind of good), and thing’s keep moving, but Rich can manage it.

oOo

Rich doesn’t like notes.

It’s nothing personal, like, a note didn’t murder his family or anything, he just finds them kind of pointless. If someone wants to say something, they can say it to his face. Don’t hide behind some dumb note.

He started getting a lot of notes when he came back after the fire. They all had the same kind of theme ( _freak, psycho, kill yourself, sadist)._ They stung, stung hard, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. Like, what authority figure’s going to listen to the word of some teenage arsonist? So he just dumped them in the trash whenever he found them.

He was digging through his locker with Jake one time, when a small note fluttered to the ground before Rich could grab it.

“Got a secret admirer there, Richie?” Jake smirked, handing it back to him, but not before he’d skimmed over the words.

Rich had never seen Jake that mad before.

He’d demanded to know who was sending him these, how many he’d gotten, how long it’d been going on. Rich had tried to convince him it was nothing, but by the next day Jake had recruited the whole SQUIP squad (that’s what they called the group now) to help him figure out who was sending them.

The whole group was pissed, but Michael was probably the most outraged, Jake being a close second. Michael was scarily good at deciphering handwriting, and he managed to identify the authors of the notes almost singlehandedly.

First was Dustin Kropp, who Jake had pinned against the wall, teeth bared like a wolf, and told him if he ever went near Rich again, he’d have to answer to Jake. Even when he was on crutches, Jake was fucking terrifying when he was angry.

Second was Joey Atkins, who Chloe politely told to leave Rich be, and then proceeded to break his nose and kick him in a place that was definitely not meant to be kicked. Chloe was awesome. Rich told her she should run for president.

“Nah, president’s too small.” She shrugged. “I’m running for supreme overlord of the universe.”

Rich believes her.

And third was Adam Schwartz. He wasn’t quite as intimidating as the hulking football players, but he was tall, with a decent amount of muscle, and a permanent resting bitch face. Rich wouldn’t go near the guy even if you paid him. But Michael did. Walked right up to him, tipped his slushie over his head and told him to kindly fuck off.

He went home with a black eye, but Rich didn’t get any more notes.

So yeah. Rich didn’t really like notes that much.

Until this morning, when he opened his locker and found a folded piece of paper sitting on his textbooks.

_Come find me at the janitors closet in the west building after class. I promise you’ll like what you find._

Rich grimaces, crumples it up and tosses it in the trash. Who the fuck gives someone a booty call with a note?

“Hey hey hey!” Christine yelps as he tosses it away. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” Rich shrugs. “Probably a prank, or some horny freshman with incredibly low standards.”

“I-I think you should keep it!” She says, smiling awkwardly. “It – it could be a secret admirer or something! How romantic would that be?”

“Chris, relax!” Rich frowns. “It’s just junk, don’t worry about it.”

“Hey!” Jake says indignantly. “Now I have had absolutely no contact with that note whatsoever, but I am sure it was written with eloquence and grace!”

Rich narrows his eyes at him. “Since when do you know what ‘eloquence’ means?”

Jake blanks. “Um. Never. Ignore me, uh – I’m having a stroke!”

“What are you doing?!” Christine hisses.

“I’m panicking, Chris!”

“Okay, what’s going on?!” Rich snaps, folding his arms. “Why did you two give me a fake booty call?”

“It wasn’t a booty call!” Christine squawks. “And there’s nothing going on! We are innocent!”

“Guys…”

“We have no secrets!” Jake wails, holding Christine in front of him like a tiny shield.

“Jesus Christ!” Rich huffs, fishing the note out of the trash. “Look, if I go to the janitors closet, can you guys promise me I will not be assaulted and/or humiliated?”

“We promise!” Christine grins.

“And will you stop being weird now?”

“Of course!” Jake nods.

“Then I’ll go.”

“Mission success!” Christine cheers, her and Jake performing a complex secret handshake they’d clearly spent a lot of time working on.

“What’re they doing?” Jenna frowns as she walks up to her locker. Rich sighs, pocketing the note.

“Who the fuck knows anymore?”

oOo

The final bell rings, and Rich groans as he packs away his stuff. Christine and Jake had been staring at him expectantly for the whole period, like they were expecting him to just sprint out of the building as soon as the bell rang, which is fair, to be honest. He makes an exaggerated display of taking out the note from his pocket and waving it at them, and then turning left as he exited the room, making his way to the west building.

This is so fucking stupid.

He rounds the corner to the janitors closet, and thumps into someone, sending him falling to the floor.

“Oh shit, sorry, man, I wasn’t-“ A familiar voice says. “Rich?”

“Michael?” Rich frowns, picking himself up. “What’re you doing here?”

Michael frowns, looking away and fiddling with his headphones.

“Jeremy told me to meet him here. I thought it was kinda weird, like, meeting at the janitor’s closet, but he said it was important and made me promise I’d go, so...”

“Mother _fucker_.” Rich hisses, pulling out his crumpled note. “Jake and Christine tried to give me some fake secret admirer note to get me to come down here.”

“Oh, god.” Michael groans. “Should we just go back and tell them they don’t need to meddle with us or someth-“

_“Yeet!”_

A pair of hands grab Rich’s shoulders and shoves him into the closet, making him collapse into Michael’s chest.

“The fuck-?!”

The door shuts behind them, and Rich hears the click of a lock.

“Hey!” Michael snaps, stepping around Rich carefully and pounding on the door. “What the fuck, let us out!”

“Sorry, Michael! It’s for your own good, I promise!”

“Wh- _Jeremy_?!” Michael shrieks. “What the hell, man?!”

“Sorry!” Jeremy says timidly from behind the door. “We’re just so tired of seeing you guys dance around each other! You need to talk!”

“Properly! Like, about feelings and shit!”

“Jake?!” Rich yells. “You dick, you promised!”

“I never made any promises about _not_ pushing you into a closet!” Jake counters. “We’re gonna give you some privacy. If you guys don’t make up by the time we get back, we’re keeping you in there for the whole night!”

“We’re sorry!”

“Follow your hearts!”

Rich hears footsteps leading away from the door. He curses under his breath.

 

“Dammit.” Michael huffs, sliding onto the floor. “Guess we’re stuck here, then.”

Rich tries not to take his disinterest personally.

“Yeah.” He sighs, sitting down next to him. “Guess so.”

They fall into an awkward silence, both of them fidgeting and looking away from each other. The closet is small, so they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, thighs pressed against each other. Rich tries not to lean into Michael’s warmth too much.

Rich risks a glance at Michael, accidentally meeting his eye. They both stiffen and look away again. Rich bites his lip. This is so _stupid_.

“Have you been avoiding me?” He asks, because he has to know, has to break the silence somehow. Michael tenses beside him.

“What? Uh…” He mumbles. “Uh, no, no, I mean, I don’t _think_ I have-“

“That’s horseshit, Mell, and you know it.” Rich growls. Michael curls in on himself defensively, and Rich feels himself deflate slightly. “Look, I just – If I did something wrong, just tell me, and I’ll fix it, I promise! Just, tell me, please. I can’t fix it if I don’t know, Mike.”

“Wh- Rich, no!” Michael gasps. He looks heartbroken. “You didn’t do anything, this isn’t – it’s not because of you!”

“Then what is it?!” Rich asks desperately. “I don’t get it, Michael, why’re you running away from me?”

Michael looks like he’s about to say something, stops, chews the inside of his cheek.

“The flowers are gone.”

It’s so quiet Rich can barely hear it.

“Oh…” He murmurs. “But – but Jeremy and Christine are-“

“It’s not for Jeremy.”

Rich frowns.

“But… But when Brooke kissed him that time, you-“

“I know that!” Michael snaps, making Rich flinch. “Uh – sorry. I mean – it _was_ for him, but – he’s not why they stopped. I mean – he sort of is? I-I don’t love him anymore, I…”

“Well…” Rich offers a confused smile. “Shouldn’t that be good? I mean, the flowers are gone, you’re… You’re fine.”

“But I’m not!” Michael cries. “Because – because every time I look at you, it’s the same feeling – no, it’s not the same, it’s _worse_ – a-and at my house, I wanted to – god, I wanted to…” He looks at Rich like his heart is being torn out. “But you’re with Jake, and – and I should be fucking throwing up flowers and shit right now but I’m not and it doesn’t make any sense, I-!”

“Whoa, hey!” Rich says quickly, grabbing Michael’s shoulders. “First off – I-I’m not dating Jake. I mean, he’s my best bro, he took me in, of course I love him for that, but… I’m not _in_ love with him.”

Michael gapes at him. “You… You aren’t?”

Rich chuckles, shaking his head. “God, no! I mean – he actually offered to date me when he found out I had the disease, like – if we fell in love with each other then maybe the disease would stop, but… It didn’t work.”

“Wow.” Michael hums, impressed. “Jake’s awesome.”

“Right?”

“But then…” Michael frowns. “Then how’d you get Hanahaki?”

“Jesus Christ, you’re dense.” Rich huffs, rolling his eyes. “It’s _you_ , dumbass. It’s always been you, even when I had the fucking SQUIP, it was you.”

Michael’s mouth falls open slightly, and Rich really wants to kiss him.

“You – for me?” He murmurs. “I thought…”

“Yeah, it surprised me, too, headphones.” Rich smirks, rolling his eyes. A slow smile spreads across Michael’s face – the special smile, the sunshine smile, and it lights up Rich’s whole word. He’d follow this boy to the ends of the universe if he’d let him.

“Can I, uh…” He says gently, cupping Rich’s face in his hands. “Can I kiss you?”

“’Bout fucking time.” Rich laughs, grabbing Michael’s hoodie and pulling him towards him.

The kiss is clumsy and awkward. Michael clearly hasn’t kissed anyone before, and Rich hasn’t kissed anyone without the SQUIP there to guide his movements, so their movements are slow and nervous, but still sweet and gentle. Michael cups his face gently, like Rich is the most precious thing he’s ever held, and Rich throws his arms around Michael’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

Michael must be feeling bold, because he grabs Rich by the hips and pulls him onto his lap. Rich squeaks, breaking the kiss momentarily. Michael chuckles against his lips.

“Wanted to do that for a while.” He murmurs, before pulling Rich back towards him, hands resting on the sharp curves of Rich’s hips. Rich hums into Michael’s mouth, tilting his head so their noses don’t bump. Michael’s hand drags up along the curve of Rich’s waist, slipping under the material of his shirt-

And then the door opens and Rich is so shocked he falls backwards onto the floor.

Jeremy and Jake gawk at them from outside the closet. Jake sighs, slapping his palm to his forehead.

“I said make _up_ , Rich.”

Jeremy elbows him and smiles sheepishly at Michael, giving him a thumbs up. Michael rolls his eyes, pulling Rich back up to his lap.

“Yeah, we’re kinda busy here at the moment, guys, so if you could just give us a sec, I’d really appreciate it.” Michael grins, brushing his hands along Rich’s waist. Rich squeaks again, hiding his face in Michael’s hoodie.

Jake and Jeremy look at each other and shrug. The door closes again, and Rich hears the ‘click’ of the lock.

“Shit.” Michael blanks. “Guys, come back, it was a joke! C’mon, it’s dark in here!”

Rich rolls his eyes, nudging Michael’s chin with his head.

“Why do I like you?” He sighs. Michael grins at him, a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“No idea.” He smirks, pressing a kiss to Rich’s temple. “But I’m glad you do.”

“Yeah.” Rich sighs. “Me too. Now go call the assholes and tell ‘em to let us out.”

oOo

He’s pretty sure he’s living with Michael now.

He still technically lives with Jake at his apartment. He has a room there, most of his stuff is there, and he has a job now so he can help with rent (it’s at Sbarro, with Jake. They have a sort of competition as to who can serve people the fastest, but they don’t really have a way of timing themselves, so they just bicker about who won on the way home without even establishing a winner. Still fun, though). But after he and Michael… Happened, he’s been spending way more time at his place. At first it was him coming over to study for a test and ending up staying the night because of how late it got, and then he just… Never really left. Well, he did sometimes, when he felt he overstayed his welcome, but most days, he was at Michael’s.

His moms didn’t mind, despite Rich’s worries. When Nebiha had come downstairs to wake Michael up for school the day Rich had stayed over, she’d spotted both of them snuggled on Michael’s bed, rolled her eyes and said, “Okay, _canim_. You can keep him.” And that was that.

(Well, actually she went back upstairs and they heard Phoebe scream _“I knew it!”_ and come down to congratulate them and remind them to use protection until Nebiha dragged her back to the kitchen, and _then_ that was that)

Sometimes Jeremy would be there too, because he’s still Michael’s best friend and Rich isn’t some asshole who refuses to let the people he dates hang out with their buddies, and they’d all play video games. Well, he and Michael would play video games, Rich would curl up on Michael’s lap on his beanbag and act like Michael’s backseat driver.

“Dammit!” Jeremy huffs, tossing down his controller. “I totally would’ve gotten more kills than you if you hadn’t had Rich helping you!”

“Suck it up, tallass.” Rich grins, pressing his lips to Michael’s cheek. “We’re a packaged deal and everyone knows it.”

“Yeah, get fucked, Jeremy!”

Jeremy groans, slumping on his beanbag. “I so regret getting you guys together.”

One night, when Rich is curled up against Michael’s side and Michael’s acting like a human body pillow, Rich asks him.

“Do you think we should tell him?”

Michael frowns sleepily. “Tell who what?”

“Jeremy. About the… The Hanahaki.”

“Seriously?” Michael looks away anxiously. “I honestly just wanna put all that behind me, Richie.”

“I know that.” Rich sighs. “But I just – I feel like we won’t be able to move past it until everything’s out in the open. You don’t have to, I just… Sorry, never mind. Go back to sleep.”

“No, hey!” Michael protests, pulling Rich closer and kissing the top of his head. “This is important to you, you don’t have to just shut down ‘cause you’re scared of making me upset or whatever.” Rich smiles into Michael’s side. Michael gets everything. “Okay. I see where you’re coming from with this. How ‘bout we go to the park tomorrow, with Nutmeg, and we invite Jeremy and I tell him there, okay?”

“You’re sure?” Rich asks. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I’m sure.” Michael smiles. “Just – go with me?”

“’Course, Mikey.”

Michael grins, before yawning massively.

“Okay.” He sighs, hugging Rich tighter. “Time for sleep.”

oOo

Walking Nutmeg is like being dragged by a tank and trying to steer.

“How is she this strong?!” Rich wails as Nutmeg swerves around the sidewalk.

“You’re the one who wanted to walk her!” Michael chuckles, grinning at him smugly, the bastard.

“I want a divorce!” Rich yells, before Nutmeg notices another dog a few strides ahead of them and bolts to meet them. He can hear Michael cackling behind them as Nutmeg yanks him along behind her.

Asshole.

Because of Nutmegs constant detours, they end up reaching the park a few minutes late, and Jeremy’s already sitting on a nearby bench, waiting for them. Michael swallows audibly, wiping his palms on his jeans.

“Hey.” Rich says gently, placing a hand on the small of his back. “Okay?”

Michael doesn’t respond. He bites his lip, looking at the floor.

“… What if he hates me?” He whispers, so quiet Rich barely catches it.

“He won’t hate you.” He murmurs comfortingly. “He’s your best friend, you mean everything to him, man. Do you seriously think he’d hate you for having feelings?”

“Feelings for _him_ , Rich. What if it makes things weird, what if-?” His voice cracks painfully. “What if he leaves again?”

“Hey.” Rich says firmly, putting his other hand on Michael’s face and gently forcing him to look at him. “That’ll never happen. It’s not like you still love him, and even if you did, even if you still had those damn flowers, he’d just want you to be okay. He’ll understand, Mike.”

“Damn.” Michael laughs, placing his own hand over Rich’s. “What’d I do to deserve you?”

Rich blushes. “Shut up, dork.” He laughs awkwardly, shoving Michael’s face away. “Go talk to the virgin.”

“Like you can talk!”

“Begone, thot!” Rich laughs, shoving Michael in Jeremy’s direction. Michael smiles at him one last time before jogging over to Jeremy. Rich rolls his eyes fondly at their dumb handshake, tugging on Nutmeg’s leash and steering her away from them.

“C’mon, girl.” He smiles, fishing out a ball from his pocket. “Who wants to play fetch?”

She jumps up, nabs the ball out of his hand and sprints away from him so quickly he drops the leash.

“Wh- hey!” Rich shrieks, tearing after her. “You whore, you’re so lucky I love you!”

After chasing Nutmeg around the rim of the park (twice), Rich decides he should probably check on how Michael and Jeremy are doing. He manages to grab Nutmeg’s leash when she’s sniffing at another dog she’s made friends with, and somehow wrestles the ball out of her mouth, much to her discontent. They make their way back to the bench, and Rich can’t help but smile.

Jeremy’s hugging Michael tightly, murmuring something in his ear that Rich is too far away to hear. Michael nods into Jeremy’s shoulder, gripping his cardigan tightly as his shoulders rise and fall in rushed, stuttered movements. Rich winces. He’s crying.

Jeremy looks up and notices Rich standing there awkwardly. He smiles gratefully, carefully disconnecting him and Michael. He says something under his breath that makes Michael go red and punch his arm, gaze flicking to Rich quickly before dropping to the floor. Rich rolls his eyes and makes his way over to them.

Nutmeg trots over to Michael’s side, jumping up so her front paw rests on his knee, and nuzzles his face gently. Michael chuckles, holding her stump in his hand so she doesn’t lose her balance and petting her corkscrew curls. Jeremy makes to pet her, but Nutmeg growls at him warningly.

“Rude.” Jeremy sniffs, glaring at Rich from the corner of his eye with no real anger. “I can’t believe she likes you more than me. I’ve known her five years more than you have!”

Rich shrugs, scratching Nutmeg behind the ear. She leans into his touch happily.

“Get fucked, Heere.” He smiles. Jeremy rolls his eyes.

“You two are perfect for each other.” He sighs, tugging Michael to his feet. He claps Michael’s shoulder and pulls him into a quick hug, before turning to Rich seriously. “Take care of him for me?”

He sounds so sincere that Rich almost cries on the spot.

“Yeah.” He manages to get out. “Yeah, man, ‘course I will. Always.”

Jeremy grins at that. Michael smiles gently and takes Rich’s hand in his.

“Oh, Michael?” Jeremy says before he turns around. “I – I’m glad you told me. I’m just… I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.”

“It’s cool, man.” Michael reassures him. “It probably would’ve been worse if you’d known. ‘Sides, things are good now.” He smiles, looking down at their entwined fingers and running his thumb over Rich’s knuckles. “Really good.”

Jeremy gags dramatically.

“Fuck you, virgin!” Michael snaps. Rich gasps.

“Aww, babe! You’re using my insults!”

“Ugh.” Jeremy sighs. “I hate you both. Leave. Begone.”

“Piss off, Heere, we have a dog and we’re not afraid to use her!”

Nutmeg glares at them both.

“… Not that we’d ever use you, Meggie, you are perfect and wonderful and your own woman and we love you.”

Nutmeg tilts her chin, as if to say _I deem your offering worthy,_ and goes back to licking her crotch.

She is the epitome of dignity and grace.

“That’s it. I’m leaving. I can’t stay here.” Jeremy says, rolling his eyes so hard Rich can practically hear them. He quickly grabs them both, tugging them into a tight three-way embrace.

“Last hug!” He grins, before striding away to the park exit, waving to them as he leaves.

Rich smiles, glancing at Michael from the corner of his eye. He looks… Content.

“Okay?” Rich asks gently. Michael smiles, holds up Rich’s hand and kisses it.

“Okay.”

oOo

“What’s all this?”

Oh, shit.

They’re at Rich’s room, his actual room, at his and Jake’s apartment. Jake only agreed to let him and Michael stay together unsupervised if Michael brought Nutmeg and they promised, “no funny business”.

Jake’s kind of his dad now. Or a really annoying older brother. Probably a mix of the two.

Still, Nutmeg proved to be a pretty good distraction. The moment she stumbled through the door Jake had somehow apparated in front of her, and she was cradled in his lap eating turkey out of a packet in seconds.

“You’re gonna spoil her.” Michael warned as Rich discreetly edged them both to his room. Jake looked him dead in the eye and fixed him with a cold, hard stare.

“It’s what she deserves.”

They watched Netflix and cuddled and kissed a little (okay, a lot, shut up), and then Rich had left to get them the snacks he’d left in the kitchen. Apparently, Michael had taken this as an invitation to snoop around his room.

“Uh, nothing!” He yelps, grabbing the box from Michael’s hands and stuffing it back under his bed. “Just, uh – p-private stuff.”

“I know for a fact you keep your ‘private stuff’,” he says, with airquotes and everything, “in the back corner of your closet, and that was no such private stuff, good sir.”

“It was, uh… Different stuff.” Rich mumbles, grabbing his laptop. “Lets just watch Gravity Falls, okay?”

“Hey.” Michael says gently, realising he’s upset him. He wraps his arms carefully around Rich’s waist, pulling him against his chest. “Hey, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry or anything, I was just being a dick is all.”

“It’s fine.” Rich sighs. “I just – It’s… It’s special stuff.”

“That’s fine, Rich.” Michael says, nuzzling into his skin. “You don’t have to show me.”

Rich frowns, and bites his lip. He leans over and pulls the box out from under his bed.

“Here.” He mumbles, taking off the lid and shoving it at Michael.

“Wh- no, Rich, you don’t have to-“

“Please?” Rich says pleadingly, finally meeting Michael’s eye. “I want to. With you. Please?”

Michael nods slowly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Rich’s forehead.

“Course, sweetie. Anything you want, okay?”

“Okay.” Rich smiles. He digs through the box quickly and grabs his old baseball. “This is, um – This is from the first baseball game I ever went to. I didn’t know how the game worked – fuck, I didn’t even know who the teams were – but I saw on TV and stuff how people would catch the foul balls? And, uh, I guess my brother must’ve noticed how excited I’d get whenever a ball got near us, ‘cause he reached down – it wasn’t even a foul ball, he just reached down and grabbed it from right above one of the players – and he let me have it.”

“Seriously?” Michael chuckles.

“Seriously. People were pissed, but he didn’t care. He was awesome.” Rich smiles at the memory. He digs a little further, pulling out some ticket stubs. “And – and these! These are from the first movie I saw with Jake, I – No one’d ever asked me to hang out with them, so… I asked the SQUIP if I could keep ‘em.”

“It let you?”

“Yeah. I think it thought if my attitude to being cool was good, it would make being cool easier? Didn’t really work out.”

Michael scowls at the floor.

“Hey.” Rich says gently, giving him a quick kiss. “It’s gone. Okay?”

Michael sighs, turning Rich so his back is against his chest, and props his chin on Rich’s head.

“Okay.” He smiles, nudging Rich’s head with his nose. He picks up a small piece of paper and squints at it. “Oh my god, did you seriously keep the receipt we got from Seven-Eleven?”

“Of course I did!” Rich huffs indignantly. “It’s important!”

“Slushie came out of my nose, Rich, it was the worst first date ever!”

“And that’s what makes it so special!” Rich grins, tapping Michael’s nose mockingly. Michael huffs, digging around the box again.

“Hey, what’s this?”

“Uh – nothing!” Rich yelps, trying to grab it before Michael sees it properly.

“Aww!” Michael coos. “You have a little lamby!”

“Shut up!” Rich shrieked. “It’s from childhood, it has sentimental value!”

“Aw, is wittle Wichie embarrassed of his lamby-lamb?”

“Shut up!”

“You’re adorable!”

“I will _end_ you!” Rich snaps, grabbing the blue lamb and carefully stuffing it back into the box. “Next thing!”

Michael rolls his eyes fondly, scanning the box again.

“Who’s this?” He frowns pulling out the faded photograph. It’s laminated now – he and Jake had snuck in to Mrs G’s classroom during lunch, just so it wouldn’t rip.

“Oh, that’s my mom.” Rich smiles fondly. “And that’s my brother, and that one’s me.”

He half-expects Michael to make some comment about Tiny Rich’s mop of hair or small patches of eczema, but he doesn’t.

“You have her smile.” He says gently, nuzzling Rich’s neck. Rich feels his heart clench. He loves this boy so damn much.

“Thanks.” He whispers, because he doesn’t really know what else to say. Michael smiles, pressing his lips to Rich’s jaw.

“Tell me something about you that I don’t know yet.”

They’ve been playing this game for a while. Ever since Michael discovered Rich’s love for Marvel and Pokemon, he was determined to know every little thing about Rich. Normally, Rich’s answers would be simple, like how he hated peanuts but loved peanut butter, or how when he was a kid he wanted to be a space cowboy. But this time, he thinks.

“Okay…” He mumbles. “Don’t laugh?”

“Never!”

“Fine.” Rich sighs. “I’m kind of a space nerd. My mom got me this big book about space when I was a kid, and I’d make her read it to me, like, every night. We didn’t have a telescope, but she and my brother would come into my room and we’d try and look for all the different constellations.” He chuckles at the memory. “My brother would always give up and go to his room ‘cause he could never find any. I could only find the Big Dipper and like, _maybe_ Orion’s Belt, if I really tried, but my mom – she was awesome. She could find all of ‘em. And she’d point out the North star, and – I think there was a little orange star that was supposed to be Venus? Yeah. She was awesome.”

“She sounds awesome.” Michael smiles. Rich bites his lip.

“Y’know.” He says quickly, before he can back out. “I-I actually… I used to group everyone I knew into, like – space categories? Like – Jake was a sun, ‘cause everyone was orbiting around him and shit – and Chloe was Venus ‘cause-“

“Poisonous planet of molten lava?” Michael frowns. “Yeah, makes sense. What was I?”

“Oh. Well, uh – I kinda thought you were a planet at first, ‘cause like, you were orbiting Jeremy? And then I thought you were… A sun, y’know? My sun. And then!” He continues before Michael can ‘aww’ at him. “And then we all started hanging out, and it was like – like we didn’t really have a system anymore? Like, no one was orbiting anyone, we were all on the same level. So now we’re like… Stars, or something. Like a big cluster of stars. Like the Milky Way.”

Michael doesn’t respond for a while. Rich turns his head nervously, and sees Michael smiling at him fondly.

“You’re adorable.” He grins, giving Rich a slow kiss. Rich hummed contently, trying to hold on as long as he could before they had to break apart for air (air could suck ass, as far as Rich was concerned).

“I think we’re like a big family of aliens.” Michael says suddenly. Rich snorts, collapsing into Michael’s chest in a fit of giggles.

“What the fuck, man?!” He laughs. “You can’t just kiss me and then call me an alien, what the shit?!”

“I wasn’t calling _you_ an alien, I was calling all of us aliens! Totally different!”

“Oh my god, shut _up_!” Rich wheezes, almost sending the box flying.

“Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Michael gasps suddenly, grabbing something from the box. “You kept this?”

Rich frowns, pulling himself up from Michael’s grip.

Fuck.

“Uh, that’s not important!” He yelps, trying to nab the stuffed bear out of Michael’s grip, but Michael lifts it up over Rich’s head. Curse Rich’s short arms…

“All this important stuff and you think this is worth keeping safe in your secret box?” Michael frowns. “Seriously?”

“Hey!” Rich snaps, grabbing the bear and holding it close it his chest. “Look, I know it’s dumb, alright, but it’s the only thing I had back then! My dad didn’t visit, I don’t even know where my brother _is_ , none of my friends came in to see me, I just… It was nice knowing someone actually cared.”

Michael’s face softens.

“Wh- No, Richie…” He murmurs, placing his hands on Rich’s waist slowly, trying to gage his reaction. “I wasn’t trying to be a dick or anything, I just… Wasn’t expecting it. It really means that much to you?”

“… Yeah.” Rich sighs, slumping his face into Michael’s shoulder. “It sounds stupid, I know, ‘cause like – I don’t even know who gave it to me, but-“

“Whoa, wait.” Michael says suddenly, pulling Rich’s face up to look him in the eye. “You _don’t know?”_

“Hey, it’s not my fault! They came in while I was asleep, I thought-“

“Oh my _god_!” Michael groans. “Oh my god I’m dating an idiot. And you called _me_ dense, what the fuck?!”

“What?!” Rich frowns. “You – do you know who it was?”

“Rich!” Michael snaps, grabbing his shoulders. “It was _me_ , you moron!”

Rich blanks.

Okay.

That’s something.

“You – it was you?” He gasps. “But – in the hospital, you – you never said-!”

“Well, yeah, I knew you didn’t know _then_ , but I thought you’d at least put the pieces together by now! I straight up told you it wasn’t a prank, dude!”

“You said you didn’t _think_ it was a prank!”

“I was hinting! I thought you’d get it after that!”

“Clearly I didn’t!”

Michael groans loudly, lying back on the bed and throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Okay, I can’t be here. I have to leave. I’m sorry.”

“Seriously? Over a bear?”

“No, I mean I really do have to leave, my moms want me back by ten.” He pauses. “But yeah, mostly because of the bear.”

Rich rolls his eyes, resting his chin on Michael’s collarbone.

“I really do love it, though.”

“Really?” Michael scoffs. “It was just some cheap thing I found at the mall that made me think of you.”

“Yeah, that’s why I love it, dumbass.” Rich rolls his eyes. “’Cause you thought of me.”

“Oh.” Michael frowns. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty sweet of me. Damn, I’m the best boyfriend ever!”

“Don’t push it, headphones.”

“You know you love me.” Michael grins. “Okay, I gotta find a way to pry my dog out of Jake’s hands. Help me?”

“If by help you mean stand on the sidelines and laugh at your struggling, then yes, of course I’ll help you!”

“Ugh.” Michael groans, pulling himself up. “If you take a video, I expect it to go viral in two days, tops. Everyone must know how adorable my dog is. And how insane your roommate is.”

“Deal.” Rich grins. They make their way to the living room, where Jake is lying on the floor, Nutmeg sprawled over his body. He cranes his neck to look at them from over her curly head.

“I have been here for two and a half hours.”

oOo

He doesn’t remember what day it was when he first noticed Michael Mell.

He doesn’t remember the date, or the time, or what class, or what period. He just knows that he’s really fucking glad he did. Because if he hadn’t… He probably wouldn’t be here right now, curled up with Michael in his basement, watching Netflix, with Nutmeg the dog sprawled across their legs. And sure, maybe getting here was emotional and painful and came with a whole lot of stupid mistakes, but he’s glad it did. Because if it didn’t, he definitely wouldn’t be as happy as he is right now.

“Oh, hey!” Michael grins excitedly, pausing the episode of Voltron they were watching. “I got you something!”

“What?” Rich frowns. “C’mon, man, you can’t just get me a random gift, now I feel like a jerk!”

“Shut up, you’ll love it!” Michael promises, leaning over the bed so he can grab his backpack. “Sorry, I meant to give it to you at school, but there was never a really good time…”

“Well shit, now I’m intrigued.” Rich smirks. “What is it? Ray gun? Flamethrower? Please let it be a flamethrower!”

“I think we’ve had enough fires to last a lifetime, don’t you?” Michael says, raising an eyebrow. Rich shrugs.

“You got me there.”

“Okay, okay, here we go!” Michael grins, shoving a small rectangular package into Rich’s arms. “Open it, open it!”

“Jeez, man, cool it!” Rich laughs. The package has been wrapped so carefully, with a strip of ribbon going around the middle of the width and length and ending with a bow in the very centre, Rich almost doesn’t want to open it. He carefully undoes the bow and removes the ribbon, and then finds where the wrapping paper has been taped down and lifts it up slowly, so as not to rip it.

When he finally unwraps it, there’s an electric blue Nintendo DS in his lap.

“Michael…” He whispers.

“Don’t say anything yet!” Michael says, practically bouncing on the bed. “Look in the game cartridge!”

Rich frowns, but does as he’s told. He takes out the game in the cartridge, and almost drops it.

“Pokemon Red?”

“Yeah, boi!” Michael cheers. “And check it, I’ve got Pokemon Blue, so now we can do that union thing and battle each other! How cool is that? Look me in the eye and tell me I am not the _best_ boy- wait, are you crying?”

“No!” Rich cries, jabbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I’m just – it’s dusty in here!”

“Aw, Richie!” Michael smiles, pulling Rich to his chest. “No, sweetie, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t be sorry…” Rich sniffs. “Seriously, this – Christ, Mike…” He laughs waterily. “This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me, I – Jesus, I love you so fucking much, oh my god…”

Michael doesn’t respond. He just stares at him, lips parted.

“What?” Rich frowns. “What’d I say?”

“Uh, n-nothing!” Michael says quickly, clearing his throat. “It’s just, um… That’s the first time you’ve actually…”

“What?” Rich asks, cocking his head. “Actually what?”

“Um.” Michael coughs. “Said you love me?”

Rich stares at him for a moment, and then bursts out laughing.

“Hey!” Michael splutters. “I’m sharing my emotions with you, don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m sorry!” Rich gasps. “Sorry, I just – Seriously?! I was choking up fucking flowers for you, I figured the whole ‘I love you’ thing was implied!”

“I know that!” Michael snaps. “It’s just – it’s different when you actually _say_ it!”

“Fine, then!” Rich grins. “You say it.”

Michael blanks.

“Wh- _now_?!”

“Yes, now! You can’t just make a big emotional thing out of _my_ ‘I love you’ and not say it back!”

“Fine!” Michael scowls, looking to the side. “I… I love you, Richie.”

Rich smiles gently.

“I love you, too, Mikey.” He says quietly, planting a kiss on Michael’s cheekbone. “C’mon. Let’s watch Lance get emotionally abused throughout the season.”

“Ugh.” Michael groans. “Unfair. My boy Lance deserves better than this!”

“I thought you were a Keith stan?”

“What can I say?” Michael shrugs. “I like short guys with a tendency to set stuff on fire.”

“Oh my god.” Rich laughs. “Well, I happen to like tall assholes who use humour to cope with their feelings.”

“We are Klance.”

“Klance is canon, king.”

“Shut up and watch the show, dumbass!” Michael chuckles. Rich grins, settling back against Michael’s chest, and smiles at the DS in his hands.

“Hey.” Michael murmurs, nosing his cheek. “Okay?”

Rich smiles, looking around Michael’s basement at his video games and posters, his worn-out beanbags, his perfect dog, and finally at the perfect boy next to him.

“Okay.”


End file.
